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Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly 

CONTENTS TOR JUNE, 1900. 
Vol. L— NO. 2. Whole NO. 294. 

FULL-PAGE DRAWING by Hugh M. Eaton, illustrating 

A. T. Quiller-( touch's Btory, "The Two Scouts " Frontispiece 

LEGEND OF THE WHITE NARCISSUS. Poem Minna Irving 105 

"THE PRESIDENT'S WAR" De B. Randolph Kcim 107 

Illustrated by James Henry Harper. 

THE TWO SCOUTS. Story A. T. Quiller-Couch "Q." 123 

Illustrated by Hugh M. Eaton. 

A METROPOLITAN NIGHT Samuel Hopkins Adams 136 

Illustrated by Charles Grunwald and Charles Mente. 

™?a Lo R cf ATEST PASSION IN HIST ° RY ; Juana I Blanche Zacharie Bara.t 151 

With reproduction of the painting by Pradilla. 

THE BATH COMEDY. By , he Authors of "ThePride | Ajrnes and Ererton Castle L57 

ofJennico," "April Bloom," etc. Scenes XX. -X XII. ( Agnes and tgenon Lasuc i.>, 

Illustrated by Hugh M. Eaton. 

AT THE ENDS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE Robert E. Speer 167 

Illustrated from photographs by the Author. 
BEFORE THE RAIN. Poem Madison Cawein 182 

SOME TAME ANIMALS I THOUGHT I KNEW Martha McCulloch Williams 183 

Illustrated from photographs. 

for his HONOR'S SAKE Martha Henderson Gray 192 

,r Illustrated by C. D. Graves. 

WOMEN AS ARCHITECTS. (American Woman in 1 „ ,. ~ «„•,, '„™ 

Act,o„ Series, No. XIX.) \ . . . J j0Se P h Dana Mllkr 199 

Illustrated with drawings and portraits, and from 

photographs. 

MARGINALIA — Including: "Joubert" (sonnet), by"] 
Henry Tyrrell ; "Q."; "An Artist-Illustrator "; "A I 
Crowded Market" (verse), by Jennie Betts Harts- | 

wick ; "The Trials of Mrs. Julia O'Gradv," bv Mary r 205 

Sargent Hopkins; "From the Greek Anthology"; 
and "Gangway!" (verse), bv Lawrence Porcher 
Hext. 



TERMS: 1 cents a copy; $1.00 per Annum in Advance, postpaid. Newsdealers, Book- 
sellers and Postmasters are agents for Subscriptions. Remittances should not be sent us by 
Check on Local Banks, but by Draft on New York, Registered Letter, Post-office or Express 
Money Order. Cash mailed in letters is at the sender's risk. Now Ready, Bound volume, 
November, 1899, to April, 1900, in substantial bottle green cloth Levant binding, sent postpaid for f 1.00 ; 
or sent in exchangi for the. six corresponding numbers, if in good condition, fm 76c. I ■ ■• 
Volume sent free on application. 

FRANK LESLIE PUBLISHING HOUSE. 
FREDERIC L.COLVER, President. 
, HENRY DRISLER. Treasurer. Fmmdtd iSfS- 141-147 Fifth Avenue, New York. 

[; F. C JAPPE, Secretary. 

U the New Y..rk Poet i . tt. .-. vs.. , 

C0P>RIGHi, 1900. bv I RANK 1 1 SI II PI Bl ISMIV, HOI SI Incorporated . All KIWI IS KISIKWI). 

I 

W- SEE FINAL OFFER ' ' LITTLE SWEETHEARTS ' ' CALENDAR. I , • - r order. 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 




"'VJtf 






Ask Your Dealer 

for one of these ideal 
heads printed in 12 
colors on fine art 
plate paper ( size 
9% x li}4) suitable 
for framing", 

Free 

with every two cans of 

Armour's 
Pork & Beans 

If your dealer cannot 
supply you, send two 
2-cent stamps and 
we will niail one 
direct. 

Indicate your choice by number. 

Armour & Company, 
Chicago. 








When writing to advi [Users please mention Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly. 



LEGEND OF THE WHITE NARCISSUS. 



IS lace and linen and silken slippers 

And sheen of satin they dressed the bride. 
With a gossamer veil, and a wreath of blossoms 

To crown her beauty, the day she died. 
With rich perfumes of the rose and lily 

They combed and plaited her locks of gold, 
And under the tree where once she trysted 

They hid Iter down in the frozen mold. 

With sun and shadoiv and balmy breezes 

Came the Spring to her place of rest, 
And a slender blade like an emerald arrow 

Lifted the clods above her breast. 
Crystal dews of the purple twilight, 

Silver rains of the morning cloud, 
Coaxed the stem from its leafy shelter, 

Drew the bud from its folded shroud. 

Pale and pure as a pearl of ocean 

It slipped the green of its dainty sheath, 
Deep in its heart a hint of yellow 

From the braided tresses that lay beneath. 
So it was bom, the bride's fair daughter 

The white narcissus that buds and blows, 
Sweet and starry in silent places, 

Over the grave of the winter snows. 



Minna Irving. 




mm: v, mii: BEHIND VB BY THE QABLB 01 mi. 






■■,.„ ,. y ,,„„//,, Ohm* (" 0."). r* page 138. 



vsi 



rPANK LESLIE'S 

POPULAR MONTHLY. /VJ 



Vol. L. 



JUNE, 1.900. 



No. 2. 



'THE PRESIDENT'S WAR." 




DeB. Randoi rn Kkim. 



THE I'KESIDEXT S SEAL, AND WAI! AND 
NAVY FLAGS. 



a certain fateful afternoon in the mointh of 

August, 1814, the President of the United 

States, with the members of his Cabinet 

T and a few friends, was a fugitive in the 

hills of Virginia. 

His heroic wife, deaf to the appeals and 
alarm of her gentlemen attendants, and 
imploring but a "moment's delay," was 
hurriedly tossing into her coach in waiting 
outside a few valuables of the Executive 
Mansion, notably the Declaration of [inde- 
pendence, Constitution of the United States, and portrait of Washington by 
Stuart, cut by her order from its frame. 

The exchanging shots of the retiring American rear guard and of the over- 
whelming numbers of the advancing British were distinctly heard as she 
mingled with the fugitive throng of citizens and stampeded militia, making 
their exit toward Georgetown at one end, while Ross and his columns came 
near and nearer from the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue. 

The Capitol in flames formed the background to the humiliating scene. 
The "steward of the household" had barely locked the front door as the 
"First Lady" dashed away, and had himself but taken to the adjacent 
woods, when the British were battering open the same portals. 

A few moments later the President, from his retreat beyond the Potomac, 
witnessed the lurid tongues of flame devouring the official home of the Chief 
Magistrate of the Republic. 

His wife, from the heights of Maryland, viewed the same spectacle in tears 
and amid taunts and refusals of shelter by the inhabitants. 

The tidings of the victory of Jackson and his improvised army, so disastrous 
to the prestige of British arms, reached the President, then in temporary 
occupancy of "the Octagon," at the capital, about the same time that he 
heard the news of the conclusion of the Treaty of Peace at Ghent, beyond the 

COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY FRANK LESLIE PUBLISHING HOUSS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 



108 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



m 



Atlantic which had been signed fifteen days before the buttle of New Orleans 

was fought. . 

The Mexican War afforded even a more striking instance of the perfunctory 
relations of the Constitutional Commander-in-Chief to the active operations, 
in time of war. of the Arn.v and Navy of the United States. 

President Polk gave but the order to advance beyond the Neuces, which 
meant the invasion of the disputed territory. 

Then followed the forced marches and brilliant victories of Palo Alto and 
Resecadela Palma, which sent the panic-stricken Mexicans flying beyond 
the Rio Grande with Taylor close on their heels, never halting until he won 
the great victory of Monterey and established himself in that important 
strategic city within the northern frontiers of the enemy's country. 

It was weeks before information of this splendid movement reached the 
President, and Congress at last formally declared war over the opposition of 

The land and naval expedition which eonbuTrea California, the expedition 
which occupied New Mexico, the victory of Buena Vista against overwhelming. 
numbers the landing of Scott at Vera Cruz, and the victorious march upon, 
capture and occupation of the Mexican capital until the signing of the treaty 
of Guadaloupe Hidalgo, wee events in which the Presidential Commander-in- 
Chief cut no figure at all. The primitive means of communication then m 
vogue were not even sufficiently expeditious to keep him advised of one event 
before the next had transpired. , 

During so recent a period as the Civil War the first tidings of the capitula- 
tion of Vicksburg to General Grant did not reach the President for a week, 
although that important event took place at the same time that the three 
days' tiene combat of arms at Gettysburg terminated in victory for the 

National forces. . 

[1 was not unusual for the first announcement of a battle raging, tapped 
hoi from the wires" on its way North to some metropolitan journal, to reach 
the President through its Washington correspondent. The President, always 
willing to be '•called' 1 under such circumstances, even at unseemly hours, 
never delayed tor the formality of dressing, but usually strode nervously into 
the library from his adjoining bedchamber in his nightgown and eagerly 
read the -'news." 

Thus arrayed, he hardly bore out the classic ideal of an Apollo Belvidere. 

II. a a,, however, very appreciative of the thoughtfulness, and seemed to 
take mud, unction to his oft perturbed spirit in having the next morning a 
■• flant movement on Stanton on the news." 

A . wafi forcibly -aid by a distinguished officer of the Army, adverting 
,,, the wars of the United States from the civic-military standpoint: "In 
none has the President been so directly identified with the movements oi the 
arm ies and fleets a- in the conflict with Spain." In that war President 

McKinley, for the first time in our history, realized in practice the Constitu- 
tional provision that the President not only shall be, but is, the Commander- 
in-Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States. 

N ner had Commodore Dewey, on thai eventful 1st of May morning, at 



THE PRESIDENT'S WAR 



109 




SOUTHEAST CORNER OF THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, SHOWING WINDOW OK THE WAR ROOM 

(second story). 

Copyright, 1900, by J. H. Harper. 

a single blow annihilated the sea power of Spain in the Far East, than, com- 
passing the severed cables by fleet carriers of the sea, the President Com- 
mander-in-Chief was in touch with the victor of Manila Bay half way 'round 
the world. At all times, from the first warlike movement of troops from 
their home stations during the long term of unbroken peace, the President 
Commander-in-Chief was within the tap of a button. 



110 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



In the concentration of warships and transports and mobilization of armed 
battalions at points on the seaboard ready to descend upon the enemy's 
shores, or in the disembarkation of the troops of Miles or Shafter upon foreign 
soil, thefland and naval forces were never beyond his electric wand of command. 

Such facilities of practically instant communication between the Commander- 
in-Chief and the active fighting force of a nation on sea or land were not only 
absolutely new but novel in the art of war. 

The military and maritime nations of the centuries never even dreamt of 
such initiative methods of supreme command, nor had the progressive govern- 
ments in the most recent wars solved such efficient means of directing from 
the highest scat of authority the details of warlike campaigns. 

It remained for the most advanced of contemporary governments, upon the 
threshold of the Twentieth Century, to set the pace of manoeuvring fleets, 
ordering the array of battle and of the fierce onslaught of battalions, in this 

air*' of electricity. 

The great Caesar at the head of his invincible legions tramped over most of 
the known world of his day in his career of conquest. The great Bonaparte 
from his snow-white battle-steed surveyed the field and met and delivered the 
wager of conflict. The foremost citizen of this Republic, McKinley, from his 
official residence at the American Capital, at the touch of a button put in 
motion fleets which in a few brief hours changed the maps of two continents 




VIEW <>l MM. WHITE H'USK GBOI NDS wi> H ISHINGTON MON1 WENT, FROM " WAR ROOM 
WINDOW— HOME-COMING OF THE DISTRICT REGIMENT (FALL OK 1898). 
(•.,;,,/, tght, 190 I, '■!/ •' // Harper. 



THE PRESIDENT'S WAR." 



Ill 



and placed a nation, for cen- 
turies the foremost in the 

world, prostrate and powerless 
at his feet. 

It was fortunate indeed that 
under such exceptional con- 
ditions of active command the 
office of Presidential Com- 
mander-in-Chief was tilled by 
one of the best types of an 
all-round American citizen, 
possessing well-balanced ideas 
of elective authority, skilled in 
the workings of local as well 
as national politics, trained in 
legislation, particularly bear- 
ing upon the most abstruse 
problems of public economy, 
an adept in successful admin- 
istration of State affairs, of g 
practical knowledge of an ? 
army in the field and indi- 1 
vidual experience in the im- | 
pact of battle. 5 

In all the hurried unravel- s 
ling of the diplomatic, warring L 
and determining stages of the 3 
conflict there never was exhib- ~- 
ited even a momentary ap- 
pearance of disturbed com- 
placency. Yet what a rapid 
succession of ever-changing 
situations and conditions ! the 
initiating inceptive days when 
Spanish pride was at its loft- 
iest mercurial point; the ex- 
citement of most direful hap- 
penings which tried public 
serenity to the utmost limits 
of endurance ; the stern re- 
sponsibility of accepting war, 
even as the last resort of 
offended national honor and 
indisputable national obliga- 
tion to the humane and en- 
lightened spirit of the age ; 
the tact of shaping Congress, 




11-2 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

confronted by a potential cabal, to face the issue by prompt and decisive 
measures; the mobilizing of armies out of limited organized members and 
equipment and unlimited raw material of men, means and resources; the 
concentration of sea power, the patrol of the sea and the blockade of harbors ; 
the charter and assembling of transports; the embarkation and convoy of 
troops to the scene of operations beyond long stretches of sea ; the conduct of 
offensive campaigns on foreign soil under the epidemic-breeding heats of trop- 
ical latitudes ; the achievement of overwhelming and untarnished victory over 
almost insuperable obstacles of numbers and nature; the dictation of terms 
of submission within the brief space of a hundred days; the adjustment of. 
warlike conditions to a suspension of hostilities ; the organization and instal- 
lation of the machinery of diplomatic negotiation ; the second confronting 
and confounding of opposition to an honorable fulfilment of solemn obliga- 
tions; the triumph of peace; the establishment of American dominion in 
the Pacific in sovereign defiance of the intermeddling inclinations of Western 

nations. 

Ami pending all this tremendous strain, international relations of the most 
delicate character, owing to the intrigues of the Continental nations of Europe, 
were maintained, and the minutest details of domestic administration and 
economic advancement went on as uninterruptedly as if the country reposed 
in the very bosom of sweet peace. 

And how was this marvellous exercise of executive trust accomplished? 

In a word, by a master mind in the seat of authority and direct contact 
with the forces which made success. 

The apartment in the southeastern corner of the second floor of the Execu- 
tive Mansion will always hold a pre-eminent place in the stirring event-making 
year of grace 1898. 

Looking out of its southern windows, the vision rests upon a scene of 
picturesque loveliness, made so by the landscape gardener's art. 

A sweep of park interspersed by lawns, walks, fountains and other beauti- 
fying devices of man extends a long distance away toward the south. On the 
lift the lofty marble obelisk to the first President rears its chaste outlines 
against tie blue sky. On the rigid, in the dim distance on the Virginia hills, 
may be seen Arlington House, with the intervening broad Potomac pouring 
its turbid Hood bayward. 

From this scene of tranquility we but turn about and have before us the 
mechanism which directed the nation through a momentous struggle of arms 
and a masterful achievement of diplomacy. 

Before the outbreak of hostilities, when Spanish "honor" was so rampant 
and self-eufficient, this apartment, so scientific and warlike in equipment, 
was devoted to the peaceful routine of executive administration, devolving in 
detail upon John Addison Porter, secretary to the President. 

It might have been called the middle chamber between the ante-room and 
the audience office of the President, 

Previous to this long-needed ceremonial sifting arrangement it was the 
office of the executive clerks, where nominations were prepared for the Senate 
and tin: executive archives and records were kept after the fate of the luckless 



THE PRESIDENT'S WAR. 



113 




WAR ROOM AT THE EXECUTIVE MANSION. 
Copyright, 1900, &v J. II Harper. 



aspirants for executive appointment had been determined in the adjoining 
apartment. 

The necessity of being constantly in intercourse with all parts of the country 
early became apparent to the President and those about his person and subject 
to his convenience in the transaction of public business. 

At the beginning of hostile preparations, Mr. F. D. Owen, engineer, sub- 
mitted to Colonel T. A. Bingham, in charge of public buildings and grounds, 
outline and colored maps as a basis of a complete cartographic representation 
of the possible theatres of active operations in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, 
the Caribbean Sea and Philippine group, with a suggestion that they be taken 
to the White House. These having received the approval of Secretary Porter. 
I Ivdrographic Office and Coast and Geodetic Survey charts were obtained by 
Mr. Owen, which, after further preparation, were hung on the walls of the 
room subsequently known as the " War Room,' 1 and upon these were pictured 
daily the warlike movements of the land and sea forces as the cipher report- 
were received. From these maps thus illustrated and others contributed by 
the Engineer Corps, War Department, ideas of the front were gained and sub- 
sequent orders sent forth directing operations more specifically and effectively 
than ever before in the history of warfare. 

In order to bring the President into direct contact with the requirements of 
the situation. Secretary Porter, Colonel Bingham, United States Engineers, 
and Lieutenant-Colonel Montgomery. United States Signal Corps, at a con- 



Ill t RA NK L ESL IE ' £ POP ULAR MONTHL Y. 

ference at the Executive Mansion projected a comprehensive scheme of wire 
and cable connections, with the systems of the commercial companies, which 
would embrace the accessary facilities and the use of these first wall maps. 

To secure the necessary isolation of the telegraph from the clerical routine 
of the Executive Ollice, Secretary Porter vacated the appartment which he 
had occupied as his official quarters since his installation. Colonel Bingham 
rearranged the connections outside of the mansion, bringing them in contact 
with the instruments within. Colonel Montgomery at the same time trans- 
ferred all the electrical appliances from the old and designated their conven- 
ient arrangement in their new quarters. 

There had existed in the room across the corridor a switch-board arrange- 
ment with the systems of the great telegraph lines of the country for the 
transaction of ordinary business by relay through the central offices of the 
city. 

This crude method, though inconvenient at times, answered the require- 
ments of the day ; but when war became inevitable, and the rendezvous of 
fleets and ''rush orders" for delivery of material of war supervened the 
stag'' of preparation, facilities of direct communication equal to the exigencies 
of the new conditions were demanded. The rest was the work of evolution 
as the emergencies of the situation exacted. And a marvelous evolution it 
was in the functional relations of the President to the actual war making 
power of the government. It commenced a new era of supreme command in 
the handling of fleets and armies. 

A new switch-board accommodating twenty wires was "connected up single 
and duplex " for telegraph purposes. The French and English cables, in 
addition to the regular wires of the commercial companies and press associa- 
tions, connecting with the Executive Mansion, thus brought the President in 
direct and constant communication with every part of the United States and 
the rest of the world. 

A "cable box" with accommodations for fifteen telephone wires placed the 
President in official intercourse, separate and distinct, with the Senate and 
11"'!-'- of Representatives at the Capitol; also with each of the eight Ex- 
ecutive Departments, a special wire leading direct to the desks of their respec- 
tive chiefs, the latter being recorded telephonically each under his own 
number. 

The almost endless details of command, whether of organization, equipment 
and assignment of Meet- and corps, with their units of ships and regiments,' 
therefore passed through this consolidated system. This involved a personal 
knowledge on the part oi the Commander-in-Chief of every order given by his 
authority and in his name, dictated to his private secretary, George P. Cor- 
telyou. 

When hostilities began on sea and land the President was constantly at 
call, night or day, by Ins own orders, often in person conveying to Colonel 
Montgomery in charge "without official circumlocution, " the necessary 
initial commands, or gave responses to official requests from the field for addi- 
tional instructions. 

In matters of routine the commands were communicated in the usual form 



"THE PRESIDENTS WAR." 115 

by the Secretary of War or Secretary of the Navy " by direction of the Presi- 
dent." The President Commander-in-Chief was however behind every com- 
mand sent to the fleets or army during the movements of the troops, and in 

the despatch of orders the President was usually attended by the Secretaries 
of War and Navy and the Adjutant General of the Armv. 




The first orders of the President Commander-in-Chief were sent over these 
wire and cable connections to Commodore Dewey on January 27. 1898, then 
lying in the harbor of Yokohama, Japan, directing him to "re-embark crew of 
the squadron whose terms of enlistment had expired." 

On February 27th he was informed of his duty by the Presidential Com- 
mander-in-Chief to concentrate squadron at Hong Kong to keep full of coal, 



116 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

and in event of declaration of war with Spain, "your duty will be to see that 
the Spanish squadron does not leave the Asiatic coast, and then offensive 
operations in the Philippine Islands." 

On April 24th he was ordered "to land all woodwork." 

On April 25th the Commander-in-Chief, through Long, Secretary of the 
Navy, cabled his commander in the Far East Ins final orders: " War has com- 
menced. Proceed at once, particularly against the Spanish fleet. You must 
capture vessels or destroy." 

The next day Dewey cabled back, "Squadron would leave for Mirs Bay at 
request of governor of Hong Kong to await telegraphic instructions." 

The day after but one, Dewey notified the President "that squadron would 
sail immediately for the Philippine Islands." Four days later, May 1st, 
Dewey reported ( via Hong Kong, May 7th) : "The squadron arrived at Manila 
at daybreak this morning. Immediately engaged the enemy and destroyed 
the following vessels (eleven enumerated ). The squadron is uninjured. Few 
men slightly wounded." On May 13th. direct from Cavite, Dewey cabled 
direct into the " War Room" : " I can take Manila at any moment," 

The possibility of a brush with a Spanish expeditionary fleet or other 
European power in the Far East, and the determination of the President Com- 
mander-in-Chief to be prepared for emergencies, was indicated by the signifi- 
cant query, "In case of an attack by a superior force, would you desire 
submarine mines? If so, how many and what length of cable?" To 
which Dewey replied, " Mines not much use here. If attacked by superior 
force tic squadron will endeavor to give good account of itself." 

Through the War Room, on May 20th, Dewey was informed of Camara's 
rumored movement, and on the 29th that he had not sailed and that the 
United States land reinforcements were en route by the Pacific. 

On June 25th he was notified that Spanish fleet and troops had left Cadiz 
bound east. He was kept constantly apprised of these movements through 
the Suez Canal and return. August 12th he was notified of the signing of the 
Protocol by the President, and next day he reported back "surrender of 
Manila." 

While these events were transpiring in eastern Asia, the President Com- 
mander-in-Chief grasped the situation nearer home with equal vigor. 

While the newspapers and even military and naval experts, with means of 
knowing, were indulging in prolific speculation upon the movements of the 
Spanish Meet, one day having it at the Verdes and the next off Boston 
harbor, the President in the inviolable secrecy of the War Room knew 
precisely the plans of the Spanish government before Cevera left the shores of 
Spain. 

These facts were cabled into the War Room in cipher upon information 
obtained from secret agents employed by the American consuls and military 
and naval attache- at European courts and points near the Spanish frontier. 

On April 28th a cable (name withheld) reached the War Room through 
London from Cape de Verdes that Spanish flotilla was coaling. Instructions 
were at once sent via (ape llaytien to Cotton, commanding the auxiliary 
cruiser Harvard, to scout 



"THE PRESIDENT'S WAR." 



117 



On May . r )tli Sampson was directed by the Commander-in-Chief "not to 
cripple his fleet against fortifications." 

As SOOn as it was known that the Spanish admiral had entered the fatal 
"sphere of American influence," miniature cardboard ships with red flags on 
pins and named to correspond with the vessels of the Meet tracked his move- 



i:\ El itivf. 




FLAGS OF THE EXECUTIVE, WAR AND NAVY DEPARTMENTS FLYING OVER THEIR RESPECTIVE 

HEADQUARTERS. 

' 'opyright, 1900, by J. H. Harper. 

ments upon the large chart of the Atlantic Ocean which hung against the 
War Room wall. 

The President at a glance, as rapidly as the cipher reports were received 
and translated and the pin ships placed in positions to correspond with the 
latesl advices, had before him the Spanish vessels taking CO al at Porte de 
France, Martinique, reported by Cotton from the scout Harvard, and that the 
fleet at 4 p. m. same day had left, "destination unknown." 

On May 13th Schley was ordered to sea from Fortress Monroe to touch at 
Charleston, S. C, for instructions and to be near to reinforce Sampson. 
Sampson was advised of Cotton's report that Spanish fleet was off Curacoa. 

It is not necessary to go over the orders in detail. 

As early as May 19th the President, from his own confidential sources of 



118 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

official information, knew that Cervera with all his vessels had entered the 
harbor of Santiago de Cuba short of coal. 

This earliest authentic knowledge was received over the War Room 
wires from a United States signal officer in Cuba. 

It was this exclusive verified information several weeks ahead of the news- 
papers and public which enabled the President to give his imperative orders 
for the concentration ol the Heel which had been hovering about the islands 
of the West Indies on blockade and cruising duty, and thus "bottled up" 
Cervera until he sailed his Meet into the jaws of death. Commodore Schley at 
Charleston, S. C, received the President's further order to proceed to the 
south coast of Cuba by way of the Yucatan Channel. Commodore Sampson, 
who had returned to Key West from the bombardment of San Juan, there re- 
c lived orders to proceed to the south of Cuba by the Windward Passage. 

These sailing directions were followed by pin miniature vessels with blue 
flags and named to represent the vessels of Sampson and Schley. 

The pin fleet of Cervera within the harbor of Santiago and the blockading 
American ships off its mouth represented the respective positions as vividly 
as if in reality under the very eye of the President. 

The movements of the vessels during Camara's "naval bluff" were tracked 
in the War Room from the moment they sailed away from the coast of 
Spain along the Mediterranean to the Suez Canal, and until they returned to 
their home stations. A similar system of placing the American fleets of war 
ships and transports was kept up for the Pacific between the shores of Cali- 
fornia and the Philippines, including Hawaii and the Ladrones. 

The bottling of Cervera in the harbor of Santiago de Cuba determined ad- 
versely the pr< iposed assault and capture of Havana " before the rainy season." 

By direction of the President, telegraphic instructions, May 30th, in the 
name of the Headquarters of the Army, were sent from the War Room to 
Shafter at Tampa : " Go with your force to capture garrison of Santiago and 
assist in capturing fleet." 

It is not necessary here to go into the details of orders. 

before the departure of the transports and their convoys from Tampa, 
Florida, for the invasion of Cuba, the President was within telegraphic com- 
munication by way of New York and French cable direct to Cape Haytien, 
then the nearest point to the scene of active service of the fleets and proposed 
theatre of operations of the Army. 

The Signal Corps in all the different movements which followed, demon- 
strated it- efficiency under the sagacious direction of General A. W. Greeley, 
Its chief, by keeping pace with the army of invasion. 

Al.oiit a fortnight in advance of the sailing of General Shaffer's forces on 
June 1 1th, Colonel .lames Allen, of the Volunteer Signal Corps, on the staff 
of Genera] Mile-, evading the remotest newspaper notoriety, sailed from Key 
Wesl for Santiago on a chartered vessel with cable gear installed and a supply 
of sixty mile- of cable. The party arrived off Santiago de Cuba lunc 1st to 
destroy the Wesl Indies and Panama Telegraph Companies' cables subsidized 
by Spain, which, however, was only partially accomplished, owing to the 
unreliability of the foreign contingent on the vessel under fire. 



U THK PRESIDENT'S ll'JA'." Lid 

Upon the sailing of the Fifth Corps, thirteen days later, this signal detach- 
ment directed its attention to the restoration of the cables between Cuba ami 
Ilayti, in order to connect with Shafter's forces as soon as tiny should land. 
On June 13th, one day before Shaffer sailed from the Bhoree of the United 
States, tlir repair of the French cable near Caimanera began. On the 20th 
Colonel Allen, from a station on shipboard, reported telegraphically through 
the War Room to bis superior officer, General Greeley, that the Fifth 
Corps bad arrived off Santiago and that General Shatter was in conference 
with Admiral Sampson. 

In order to demonstrate the marvelous celerity with which the Commander- 
in-Chief in bis War Room was brought within speaking connections of 
the army of invasion, it can be mentioned that the day after this first through 
dispatch from shipboard off Santiago de Cuba Colonel Allen opened commu- 
nication with the Executive Mansion from a land station at the United States 
marine camp at Caimanera, near Guantanamo. 

The first message that communication was permanently established between 
the army of invasion on the south coast of Cuba and New York was received 
without relay by the President in the War Room in his official residence 
at Washington in five minutes after it was filed at Caimanera. 

The French cable, in the direction of Santiago, was repaired at Playa del 
Este. The company meanwhile opened a commercial office at Siboney, reach- 
ing Playa del Fste over the Signal Corps' war cable as well as its own, thus 
affording uninterrupted communication over two lines between those point-. 

The moment General Shafter began the disembarkation of his corps he was 
placed within two hours by boat and wire of the President Commander-in- 
Chief in Washington. After June 29th the headquarters of General Shafter 
until the capitulation of the doomed Hispano-Cuban city were within twenty 
minutes direct telegraphic command of the President. 

It now seemed as if the sound of the booming of the guns of Sampson 
afloat and of the confronting circumvallations of Toral and victorious Shafter 
and his brave men in the trenches could be heard reverberating within the 
very walls of the President's War Room. 

In extending the line along the prolongation of the army's march the most 
difficult obstacles of nature — thicket and swamps, deadly missiles, and poi- 
sonous insects and reptiles — were encountered and overcome. 

A seven-stranded wire, transported on the backs of pack mules, was laid 
through a dense chapparal to the vicinity of Las Guasimas by the 28th of 
June. The next day, keeping pace with the advance of the army, the Presi- 
dent was kept in communication with the army at Sevilla, the headquarters 
of the cavalry division, and thence to the headquarters of General Shafter, 
within a mile of Fl Poso or the Sugar Mills. 

By July i) Aguadores, Daiquiri, Siboney and the ammunition camp were 
connected up. and a line between the War Room and the battle-front was 
maintained in uninterrupted working order, including the line of investment 
of the city, with a line extending from the centre through corps headquarters 
and the different supply camps to Siboney, the land line of wire from Aguadores 
to Daiquiri, and, in addition to these, the French cable from Siboney to Playa 



120 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

del Este. Every varying phase of the situation at headquarters and in the 
trenches was known to the President as completely as if he were in the midst 
of his generals and the gallant men at the front in deadly array against the 
enemy on the defensive behind carefully constructed works and in superiority 
of numbers. 

So perfect had become this object method of keeping in hand the move- 
ments of vessels and troops that on the day of the surrender of Santiago, 
pending the final attacks and parleys, the President Commander-in-Chief had 
before him the exact line of investment of the city drawn on large field charts 
in blue pencil for the Americans and red for the Spaniards, with the position 
of every command of our own troops and the hostile Spaniards located and 
pin-flagged by name. 

The same system was extended to Luzon, Porto Rico and other fields of 
American operations in foreign seas or lands. It also included a map of the 
United States with stations of commands at home military posts and forts 
compiled from the weekly reports in the Adjutant General's office. 

The appearance of a flag of truce from the enemy in front of any part of 
the American battle lines was reported within a few minutes to the Com- 
mander-in-Chief in Washington, and the generals received their orders from 
him through the proper military channels. 

On July 17, immediately after the occupation of Santiago, the Spanish 
military line, tapped at the junction of the Caney and Sevilla roads, was 
extended into corps headquarters. The different camps were also connected 
by telephone. By these extensions the President was constantly kept advised 
of the condition of the army. He was thus enabled to make such prompt 
disposition of the troops as comfort and health after a trying campaign might 
suggest. 

During the embarkation of the troops at Tampa or other points for Cuba 
and Porto Rico on one side and for the Philippines on the other side of the 
continent, the President, attended by the War and Naval Secretaries and 
Adjutant General, passed hours at a time by the instruments directing the 
generals in command and urging the utmost despatch in establishing their 
troops aboard and proceeding on the voyage. The War Room was never 
closed, and by the President's orders he was to be awakened at any hour of 
the night if important intelligence should come in. 

The operating of this intricate system of charts, miniature vessels of war 
and transports, and tracking corps and lesser commands, detached bodies of 
men and vessels to correspond with the actual situation required great vigi- 
lance and accuracy as well as method. The entire lists of ships of both 
navies and land organizations by name were arranged in alphabetical order 
on index boards, from which they might be promptly taken as required. All 
messages pertaining to the war or kindred subjects were received direct at the 
War Room in cipher and were promptly converted for the information of 
the President. 

The President's plan of concentrating all dispatches and reports received 
and order- and instruction- sent out under one direction in his War Room 
not only vastly simplified the exercise of command, but also secured absolute 



'Till: PRESIDENT'S WAR. L2] 

secrecy, a most essentia] element of military and naval 3uc< ess. It ic o 
the highest tributes to those associated with the duties of the War [loom 
that not a syllable of information ever left there. 

Nor did the usefulness of the President's War Room cease with the 
signing of the Protocol on August L2, L898, which opened the way to peace 
When the negotiations were being conducted in Paris the Presidenl was con- 
stantly in immediate communication with tin: American commissi rs. All 

questions at issue between the negotiators were transmitted to the War 
Room in cipher and were answered by the President through Secretary 
Hay. The world little knows of the communications passing to and fro 
beneath the stormy waters of the Atlantic before Spain was brought to :I 
realization that the United States was not the defeated nation and that the 
statemenl of terms came with better grace from the victorious side of the con- 
troversy. 

There was a pathetic side to all this glory of war. The world will but 
briefly know, if at all, the solicitude of mothers over their boys, of sweet- 
hearts over their soldier lovers when the accounts of battle and rolls of killed 
and wounded appeared in "cold type" in the newspapers, and how the 
President; appealed to, from his War Room comforted these sorrowing 
ones at home with information fresh from the seat of war, whether it wen 
for joy or distress. 

In the midst of the thrilling activities of war and diplomacy there hap- 




1IU.ME-COM1NG TKOOl'S WELCOMED BY PRESIDENT MCKINLEY AT 'JUL WHITE 
Copyright, lituo, by J. II. Harper. 



122 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

pened an incidenl of peace in which the President's War Room was the 
scene. Prior to the opening of the new French cable between Brest, in 
Prance, and Cape Cod, in the United States, the longest single stretch of sub- 
marine communication in the world, the French Ambassador through the 
Department of State extended to the President of the United States an invi- 
tation to participate in the installation of the new international service. 

At the appointed time the President, accompanied by Ambassador Cambon 
and a few friends, gathered around the same instrument table over which had 
been "ticked" messages of report and more portentous orders of warlike 
command, in a great war and overwhelming victory. Across the Atlantic in 
his palace at Havre, over four thousand miles away, at the other end of the 
medium of the subtle fluid, was Felix Faure, President of France. 

While the felicitations of the supreme executives of the civic Republic of 
the United States and the military Republic of France were being exchanged, 
the quick eye of the American President detected the deep abstraction of the 
French Ambassador, as he gazed about the mysteriously equipped apartment. 
No sooner had President McKinley completed the ceremonial business on 
hand than, advancing toward the French Ambassador, he remarked : 

" Your excellency appears interested." 

"Very much so. Mr. President. T am amazed," responded the Ambassador. 
■• And mi, this was the head which ordered all? I see it — I see it! I am 
not surprised at the result," 

Nor did the exchange of ratifications between the United States and Spain 
terminate the usefulness of the War Room. 

The acquisition of new territories; the adjustment of civic and military 
affairs to changed conditions in Porto Rico and Cuba ; the existence of an in- 
surrection in Luzon; the creation of a new army; the upholding of national 
authority in the Philippine archipelago, and the organization and movement 
of a large fleet of transports for troops and supplies, entailed responsibilities 
even greater than existed during the period of international hostilities. 

A new chart now shows both the eastern and western routes to our Asiatic 
colonial possessions. Flagged pin- representing transports, names and capac- 
ity, and regiment-, number and strength, on board, arc moved up daily on 
the line of voyage, SO that at a glance the President may know their location. 

A profile map exhibits the physical characteristics of the portions of Luzon 
in which the troops are in campaign or garrison. 

And even going beyond the sphere of American military operations, the 
movements of the British and Boer armies are pinned, from day to day. from 
the | » I-. -- reports. 

Another new chart portrays the lines of interoceanic canal by the several 
proposed routes in < !entral America. 

We have had in American colonial history King William's War and Queen 
Anne's War. The conflid with Spain, which bore so severely upon that 
ancient monarchy and ended SO gloriously for the prestige of American arms 
and the master mind which directed all, mighl well be called Tin President's 

War. 




I 




[Extract /rum the Memoirs of Manuel (or Manus) McNeill, an agent in th Secret Ser. 
via of Great Britain during the campaigns of the Peninsula (1808 1818). I Spanish sub- 
ject by birth and a Spaniard in all his upbringing, he traces in the first chapter of his 
Memoirs his descent. from an old Highland family, through one Manus McNeill, a Jacobitt 
agent in the Court of Madrid at the time of the War of Succession, who afterwards married 
and setUeduat . I ranjuez.] 

IN the following chapter I shall leave speaking of my own adventures and 
Bay something of a man whose exploits during the campaigns of 1811— 
1812, fell hut a little short of mine. I do so the more readily because he 
bore my own patronymic and was after a fashion my kinsman ; and 1 make 
bold to say that in our calling Captain Alan McNeill and I had no rival bul 
each other. The reader may ascribe what virtue he will to the parent blood 
of a family which could produce at one time in two distinct branches two 
men so eminent in a service requiring the rarest conjunction of courage and 
address. 

I had often heard of Captain McNeill, and doubtless he had as often heard 
of me. At least thrice in attempting a coup d'espionage upon ground be bad 
previously covered — albeit long before and on a quite different mission — I 
had been forced to take into my calculations the fame left behind by ""the 
Great McNeill.'' and a wariness in our adversaries whom he bad taught to 
lock the stable door after the horse bad been stolen. For while with the allies 
the first question on hearing of some peculiarly daring feat would be, " Which 
McNeill?" the French supposed us to be one and the same person, which, if 
possible, heightened their grudging admiration. 

Yel the ambiguity of our friends upon these occasions was scarcely more 
intelligent than our foes' complete bewilderment ; since to anyone who 
studied even the theory of our business, the Captain's method and mine 
could have presented but the most superficial resemblance. Each was origi- 
nal, and eaeb carried even into details the unmistakable -tamp of its author. 
My combinations, 1 do not hesitate to say, were the subtler. From choice I 
worked alone : while the Captain relied for help on his servanl Jose" 1 aever 
heard his surname), a Spanish pea-ant of remarkable quickness of sight, and 
as full of resource as of devotion. Moreover. 1 habitually used disguise.-, and 
prided myself in their invention ; whereas it was the Captain's vanity to wear 



124 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

his conspicuous scarlet uniform upon all occasions, or to cover it at most with 
his shorl dark-blue riding cloak. This, while to be sure it enhanced the show- 
iness of his exploits, obliged him to carry them through with a suddenness 
;uid dash foreign to the whole spirit of my patient work. I must always 
maintain that mine were the sounder methods ; yet if I had no other reason 
tor my admiration, I could not withhold it from a man who, when I first 
nut him, had been wearing that uniform for three days and nights within 
the circuit of the French camp. I myself had been living within it in some 
uneasiness for hard upon three weeks. 

It happened in March, 1X12, when Marmont was concentrating his forces 
in the Salamanca district with the intent (it was rumored) of marching and 
retaking Ciudad Rodrigo, which the allies had carried by assault in January. 
This stroke, if delivered with energy, Lord Wellington could parry, but only 
at th. cost of renouncing a success on which he had set his heart, the capture 
of Badajoz. Already he had sent forward the bulk of his troops with his 
siege-train on the march to that town, while he kept his headquarters to the 
last moment as a blind. He felt confident of smashing Badajoz before Soult, 
with the army of the South, could arrive to relieve it; but to do this he must 
leave both Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo exposed to Marmont, the latter with 
its breaches scarcely healed and its garrison disaffected. He did not fear 
actual disaster to these fortresses ; he could hurry back in time to defeat that; 
for he knew that Marmont had no siege guns, and could only obtain them by 
successfully storming Almeida and capturing the battering train which lay 
there, protected by 3,000 militia. Nevertheless, a serious effort by Marmont 
would force him to abandon his scheme. 

All depended therefore (1 ) on how much Marmont knew, and (2) on his 
readiness to strike boldly. Consequently, when that general began to draw 
his scattered forces together and mass them on the Tormes before Salamanca, 
Wellington grew anxious ; and it was to relieve that anxiety or confirm it that 
I found myself serving as tapster of the Posada del Rio in the village of 
Iliierta. just above a ford of the river and six miles from Salamanca. Neither 
the pay it afforded nor the leisure had attracted me to the Posada del Rio. 
Pay there was little, and leisure there was none, since Marmont's lines came 
down to the river here and we had a battalion of infantry quartered about 
the villagi — sixteen under one; roof — and all extraordinarily thirsty fellows 
for Frenchmen ; besides a squadron of cavalry, videttes of which constantly 
patrolled the farther bank of the Tormes. The cavalry officers kept their 
chargers -six in all— in the ramshackle stable in the courtyard facing the 
inn; and since (as my master explained to me the first morning) it was a 
tradition of the Posada to combine the duties of tapster and hostler in one 
person, I found all the exercise I needed in running between the cellar and 
tie- great kitchen, and between the kitchen and the stable, where the troopers 
had always a job for mr. and allowed me in return to join in their talk. They 
seemed to think tin- an adequate reward, and I did not grumble. 

Now. besides the stable, and divided from it by a dung-heap, there stood 
at the back of the inn a small outhouse with aloft. This in more prosper- 
oue days had accommodated the master's own mule, but now was stored with 



THE TWO SCOUTS. 125 

empty barrels, strings of onions, and trusses of hay — which lasl had been 

hastily removed from the larger Btable when the troopers took possession. 
Here I slept by night, for lack of room indoors and also to guard the fodder 
— an arrangement which suited me admirably, since it Left me my own mas- 
ter for six or seven hours of the twenty- four. My bed-r< i furniture con- 
sisted of a truss of hay, a lantern, a tinder-box, and a rusty fowling-piece, 
and for my toilet I went to the bucket in the stable yard. 

( )n the fifth night, having some particular information to send to headquar- 
ters, I made a cautious expedition to the place agreed upon with my messen- 
ger — a fairly intelligent muleteer and honest, bul a new hand at the business. 
We met in the garden at the rear of his cottage, conveniently approached by 
way of the ill-kept cemetery which stood at the end of the village. If sur- 
prised, 1 was to act the nocturnal lover and he the angry defender of his sis- 
ter's reputation — a foolish hut not ill-looking girl, to whom I had confided 
nothing beyond a few amorous glances, so that her evidence i if unluckily 
needed) might carry all the weight of an obvious incapacity to invent Or 
deceive. 

These precautions proved unnecessary. But my muleteer, though plucky, 
was nervous, and I had to repeat my instructions at least thrice in detail be- 
fore I felt easy. Also he brought news of afresh movement of battalions 
behind Huerta, and of a sentence in the latest general order affecting my own 
movements, and this obliged me to make some slight alteration in my origi- 
nal message. So that what with one thing and another, it wanted hut an 
hour of dawn when I regained the yard of the Posada del Rio and cautiously 
re-entered the little granary. 

Rain had fallen during the night — two or three short hut heavy showers. 
Creeping on one's belly between the damp graves of a cemetery i- not the 
pleasantest work in the world, and J was shivering with wet and cold and an 
intense want of sleep. But as 1 closed the door behind me and turned to 
grope for the ladder to my sleeping loft, I came to a halt : suddenly and 
painfully wide awake. There was some one in the granary. In the pitch 
darkness my ear caught the sound of breathing — of some one standing abso- 
lutely still and checking his breath within a few paces of me— perhaps six. 
perhaps less. 

I, too, stood absolutely still and lifted my hand towards the hasp of the 
door. And. as I did so — in all my career I cannot recall a nastier moment— 
as my hand went up. it encountered another. 1 felt the fingers closing on my 
wrist, and wrenched loose. For a moment our two hands wrestled confus- 
edly ; but while mine tugged at the latch the oth< r found the key and twisted 
it round with a click. (I hail oiled the lock three night- before, i With that 
1 thing myself on him, but again my adversary was too quick, for as 1 groped 
for his throat my chest struck against his uplifted knee, and 1 dropped on 
the floor and rolled there in intolerable pain. 

No one spoke; but as I struggled to raise myself on hands and ki 
heard the chipping of steel on flint and caught a glimpse of a face. A- it- 
lips blew on the tinder this face vanished and reappeared, and at length grew 
steady in the blue light of the sulphur match. It was not the face, however, 



126 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



on which my eyes rested in a stupid wonder, but the collar below it, the scar- 
], t collar and tunic of a British officer. 

And vet the face may have had something to do with my bewilderment. 
1 like, at any rate, to think so, since (as the reader knows) I have been in 
corners quite as awkward, yet have never known myself so utterly and de- 
gradingly non-plussed. The uniform might be that of a British officer, but 
the lace was that of Don Quixote de la Mancha, and shone at me in that blue 
light straighl out of my childhood and the story-hook. High brow, high 
cheek-bone, long pointed jaw, lined and patient fac< — I saw him as I had 
known him all my life, and 1 turned up at the other man who stooped over 
me a look of absurd surprise. 

He was a Spanish peasant, short, thick-set and muscular, but assuredly no 
Sancho ; a quiet, quick-eyed man. with a curious neat grace in his movements. 
Our tussle had not heated him in the least. His right fist rested on my hack, 
and 1 knew he had a knife in it ; and while I gasped for breath he watched 
me, his left hand hovering in front of my mouth to stop the first outcry. 
Through his spread fingers 1 saw Don Quixote light the lantern and raise it 
for a good look at me. 

And with that, in a flash, my wits came back, and with them the one hit 

of Gaelic known to me. 

■■ Latha math hat," 1 gasped, and caught my 
breath again as the lingers closed softly on my 
jaw, •" O Alan mhic Neill!" 

cer took a step and swung the 
ise to my eyes — so close that I 
blinked. 

"Gently, Jose." He let out 
| ileased laugh while he 
ied my face. Then he 
poke a word or two in 
Gaelic — some question 
which I did not under- 
stand. 

L " My name is Mc- 
Neill," said I ; "hut 
that's the end of my 
ni"t her tongue." 

The Captain 
laughed again. 
' ' W e ' V e caught 
the other o n e , 

.lose," said he. 
And .lo-,' helped 

me to my feet — I 
thought — respect- 
fully. "Now 
this," his master 




il i' BJ EN w i. \ia\i. in \ i 
i NIFORM TOR i ma i 
\\h MIGHTS WITHIN THE 

' I II M| I Ml || .11 

CAMP." 

Drau „ i ,, a i/ Eaton 



THE TWO S( 01 rs. 






went on, as it' talking to himself, "tin- es 
plains :i good deal." 

I guessed. " You mean that my presence has 
made the neighborhood a trifle hoi for you ?" 

" Exactly ; there is a. general order issued 
which concerns one or both of us." 

I nodded. " In effect, it concerns 
us both ; bul merely as ;i 
matter of history, it was 
directed against me. Par- 
don thf question, ( laptain, 
1 nit how long have you 
been within the French 
lines?" 

"Three -lavs," he an- 
swered simply ; " and this 
i- the third night." 

" What ! in that uni- 
form?" 

■' I never use disguises," 
said lie —a little too stiffly 
for my taste. 

••Well, I do. And I 
have hern within Mar- 
mont's cantonments 
for close on t h r e e 

Weeks. However. 

there' s no denying 
you're a champion. 
Bui did you happen 
to notice the date on 
the general order?" 

I did ; and 1 own it puzzled me 






I 




FOE MY TOILET I WENT TO THE BUCKET IN THE STABLE '> \KlC 
Drawn by H '/ Eaton. 

I concluded that Marmont must have 



been warned beforehand of my coining.' 1 

"Notabitofit Tl rder is eighl days old. I secured a copy on the 

morning it was issued ; and the next day, having learnt all that was necessary 
in Salamanca, I allowed myself to be hired in the market-place of that city 
by the landlord of this damnable inn." 

•' I disapprove of swearing," put in Captain McNeill, very sharp and curt. 

••As well a- of disguises? You seem to carry a number of scruples into 
this line of business. I suppose," -aid I. nettled, ••when you read in the 
general order that tin- notorious McNeill was lurking disguised within the 
circle of cantonments, you took it that .Marmont was putting a wanton affront 
on your character, just for the fun of the thing?" 

"My dear sir," said the Captain, gently, "if 1 haw expressed myself 
rudely, pray pardon me. I have heard to,, much of you to doubt your cour- 
age, and I have envied your exploits too often to speak slightingly of your 



l28 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

methods. As a matter of fact, disguise would do nothing, and worse than 
nothing, for a man who speaks Spanish with my Highland accent. I may, 
perhaps', take a foolish pride in my disadvantage, but," and here he smiled, 
"so you remember, did the fox without a tail." 

And that's very handsomely spoken," said I; "but, unless I'm mis- 
taken, you will have to break your rule for once, if you wish to cross the 
Tonnes this morning."' 

•• Its a case of must. Barring the certainty of capture if I don't, I have 
importanl news to carry— Marmont starts within forty-eight hours." 

"Since it seems that for once we are both engaged on the same business, 
l,.t me say at once, Captain, and without offence, that my news is as fresh as 
yours. Marmont certainly starts within forty-eight hours to assault Ciudad 
Rodrigo, and my messenger is already two hours on his way to Lord Welling- 
ton." 

I said this without parade, not wishing to hurt his feelings. Looking up, 
I found hi- mild eyes fixed on me with a queer expression, almost with a 
twinkle of fun. 

••'I',, assault Ciudad Rodrigo? I think not." 

"Almeida, then, and Ciudad Rodrigo next. So far as we are concerned. 
the question is not important." 

"My opinion is that Marmont intends to assault neither." 

"But. my good sir," I cried, "I have seen and counted the scaling-lad- 
ders : ' ' 

••And so have I. I spent six hours in Salamanca itself," said the Captain 

quietly. 

•■ Well but doesn't that prove it? What other place on earth can he want 
to assault ? He certainly is not marching south to join Soult." I turned to 
Josi . who had been listening with an impassive face. 

■Tie Captain will be right. He always is," said Jose, perceiving that I 
appealed to him. 

•• I will wager a month's pay " 

■■ i ,„ ver bet," Captain McNeill interrupted, as stiflly as before. "As you 
say, Marmont will march upon the Algueda, but in my opinion he will not 
mIi < iudad Rodrigo? 

•• Then la- will he a fool." 

"Ah! As to that 1 think we are agreed. But the question just now is. 
How am 1 to get across the Tonnes? The ford, I suppose, is watched on 
both sid< -." 

I nodded. 

" And," hi went on, " I suppose it will he absolutely fatal to remain here 
long after daybreak ? " 

"Huerta swarms with soldiers," said I, " we have sixteen in the Posada 
:,,,, I :i cavalry pickel just behind. A whole battalion has eaten the village 
bare, and i- foraging in all kinds of unlikely places. To be sure, you might 
have ;i chance in the loft above us, under the hay " 

" Even so. you cannol hide our horses. I suspect." 

" your hors* - 



THE TWO SCOUTS. 



129 



"Yes, they're outside at the back. 1 didn'1 know there «> a cavalry 
pickel so close, and Jose* must have missel it in the darkness." 
.lose looked handsomely ashamed of himself. 
"They are well-behaved horses," added the Captain. "Still if they can- 




not be stowed somewhere, it is unlikely they can be explained away, and of 
course it will start a search." 
"Our stable is full." 

"Of course it is. Therefore you see we have no choice— apart from our 






FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 




"CREEPING I PON ONE'S BELLY BETWEEN THE DAMP GRAVES OF A CEMETERY Is NOT THE 

PLEASANTEST WORK IN THE WORLD." 

Drawn by J I Sf. Eaton. 

earnest wish — but to cross the ford before daybreak. How is it patrolled on 
the Ear side?" 

"Cavalry," said I; "two videttes." 

• Meeting, I suppose, just opposite the ford? How far do they patrol?" 

•' Maybe three hundred yards. Certainly not more." 

The Captain pursed up his lips as if whistling a tune. 

"Is there good cover on the other side? My map shows a wood of fair 
size." 

••About half a mile off; open country between. Once there, you ought 
to be all right ; I mean that a man clever enough to get there ought to find it 
child's play." 

lb- mused for half-a-minute. "The stream is too wide for me to hear the 
movements of the patrols opposite? .lose has a wonderful ear." 

"Yes, Captain, and I can hear the water from where we stand," Jose 
put in. 

■ He is right," said I. "it's not a question of distance, but of the noise of 
the water. The ford itself will not be more than twenty yards across." 

■• What depth?" 

'Three feel in the middle, as near as can be. I have rubbed down too 
man} horses these last three days not to know. The river may have fallen 
;ni inch since yesterday. They have cleared the bottom of the ford, but just 
above and below there are rocks, and slippery ones." 

"My horse i- roughed. Of course the bank is watched on this side?" 

"Two Bentries by the ford, two a little up the road, and the guard-house 
not twenty yards beyond. Captain. 1 think you'll have to put on a disguise 
for once in your life." 

•■ Not if I can help it." 

"Then, excuse me, but how the devil do you propose to manage?'' 



THE TWO SCOUTS. 



i.:i 



He frowned at the oath, recovered himself, and looked al me again with 
something like a twinkle of Fun In his solemn eyes. 

"Do you know," said he, "il has jusl occurred to me to paj you a tre- 
mendous compliment — McNeill to McNeill, you understand " 

•• Well?" 

•• I propose to place myself entirely in your hands." 
"Oh, thank yon'" I pulled a wry lace. "Well, it's a compliment if 
ever there was on< — an infernally handsome compliment Your man, I sup- 
pose, can look after himself?" Bui before he could reply I added, "No; 
he shall go with me : for if you do happen to get across, I shall have to fol- 
low, and look sharp about it." Then, as he seemed inclined to protest, " No 
inconvenience at all — my work here is done, and you are pretty sure to have 
picked up any news I may have missed. Y<>u had best be getting your horse 
at once : the dawn will be on us in half an hour. Bring him round to the 
door here, .lose will find straw — hay— anything — to deaden hi- footsteps. 
Meanwhile Til ask you to excuse me for five minutes." 
The Spaniard eyed me suspiciously. 

"of course,*' said I. reading his thoughts, "if your master doubts me " 

'• I think, Senor McNeill, I have given you no cause to suspect it," the 
Captain gravely interrupted. "There is, however, one question 1 should 
like to ask, if 1 may do so without offence. Is it your intention that 1 should 
i ross in the darkness, or wait for daylight?" 

"We must wait for daylight ; because, although it increases some obvious 

dangers " 

•■ Excuse me : your reasons are hound to be good ones. I will fetch around 
my hors< at one, and we shall expect you hack here in live minutes' time." 
In live minute-' time I returned to find them standing in the darkness out- 
side the granary door. Jose 

had strewn a space round 

, ahont with hay; hut at my 

command he fetched more 
and spread it carefully, 
step by step, as Captain 
McNeill led hi- horse for- 
ward. My own arms were 
full ; for 1 had spent the 
five minutes in collecting 
a score of French blankets 
and shirts off the hedgi -. 
wlarc the regimental wash- 
ermen had spread them the 
day before to dry. 

A sketch will here ex- 
plain my plan and our 
movements better than a 
page of explanation : 
plan of the posada del rio and 3UBHOUNDINGS The reader will ohserve 




CAVALfiY 

MtDi rrc 



1S2 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

that the Posada del Rio, which faces inwards upon its own courtyard, 
thrusts out upon the river at its rear a gable which overhangs the stream 
and Hank- its small waterside garden from view of the village street. _ Into 
this garden, where the soldiers were used to sit and drink their wine of 
an evening, 1 led the Captain; whispering him to keep silence, for eight 
of the Frenchmen slept behind the windows above. In the corner by 
the gable was an awning sufficient, when cleared of stools and tables, to 
screen him and his burse from any eyes looking down from these windows, 
though not tall enough to allow him to mount. And at daybreak, when the 
battalion assembled at its alarm-post above the ford, the gable itself would 
bide him. Hut, of course, the open front of the garden— where in two places 
,1k- bank shelved easily down to the water— would leave him exposed, and 
in full view of the troopers across the river. 

It was for this that I had brought the blankets. Across the angle by the 
gable there ran a clothes-line on which the house-servant, Mercedes, hung 
her dish-clouts to dry. Unfastening the inner end, I brought it forward and 
lashed it t< i a p< ist supporting a dove-cote on the river wall. To fasten it high 
enough 1 had to climb the post, and this set the birds moving uneasily in the 
box overhead. But before their alarm grew serious I had slipped down to 
earth again, and now it took Jose and me but a couple of minutes to fling 
the blankets over the line and provide the Captain with a curtain, behind 
which, when day broke, he could watch the troopers and his opportunity. 

Already, in the village behind us, a cock was crowing. In twenty minutes 
the sun would be up, and the bugles sounding the reveille. "Down the bank 
by the gable," 1 whispered. "It runs shallow there, and six or seven yards 
to the right you strike the ford. When the videttes are separated— just before 
they turn to come back— that's your time." 

[ took Jose by the arm. " We may as well be there to see. How were 
you planning to get across?" 

"Oh." said he, "a marketer— with a raw-boned Gallician horse and two 

paniers of eggs— for Arapiles " 

"That will do; but you must enter the village at the farther end and come 
down the road to the ford. Get your horse,"— we crept back to the granary 
ther — " but wait a moment and I will show you the way round." 
When I rejoined him at the back of the granary be had bis horse ready, 
and we started to work around the village. But I had miscalculated the time. 
The sky was growing lighter, and scarcely were we in the lane behind the 
courtyard before the bugles began to sound. 

"Well," said I. "thai may save us some trouble after all." 

Across the lane was an archway leading into a wheelwright's yard. It had 

a tall d of solid oak studded with iron nails; but this was unlocked and 

unbolted, and I knew the yard to be vacant, for the French farriers had requi- 
sitioned all the wheelwright' s tools three days before, and the honest man had 
taken bo his bed and proposed to stay there pending compensation. 

To this archway we hastily crossed, and bad barely time to close the door 
behind us before the soldiers whose billets lay farther up the lane came run- 
ning by in twos and threes for the alarm post, the later ones buckling their 



THE TWO SCOUTS 133 

accoutrements as they ran, halting now and then, and muttering as they 
fumbled with a strap or a button. Jose, at my instruction, had loosened bis 
horse's olT hind shoe just sufficiently to allow it to clap ; and as soon as he 
was ready 1 opened the door boldly, and we stepped out into the lane among 
the soldiers, cursing the dog's son of a smith who could not arise from his 
lazy bed to attend to two poor marketers pressed for time. 

Now, it had been dim within the archway, but out in the lane there was 
plenty of light, and it did me good to see Jose's start when his eyes fell on 
me. For a couple of seconds I am sure he felt himself betrayed ; and yet, as 
I explained to him afterwards, it was perhaps the simplest of all my disguises 
and (barring the wig) depended more upon speech and gait than upon any 
alteration of the face. Having proved it once I felt more confident ; and, 
since it deceived Jose, I felt I could reasonably challenge scrutiny as an aged 
peasant travelling with his son to market. 

A couple of soldiers passed us and flung jests behind them as we hobbled 
down the lane, the loose shoe clacking on the cobbles, Jose tugging at his 
bridle and I limping behind and swearing volubly, with bent back and head 
low by the horse's rump, and on the near side, which would be the unexposed 
one when we reached the ford. As so Ave reached the main street and the 
river, Jose turning to point with wonder at the troops as we hustled past. 
One or two made a feint to steal an egg from our paniers. Jose protested, 
halting and calling in Spanish for protection. A sergeant interfered ; where- 
upon the men began to bait us, calling after us in scraps of camp Spanish. 
Jose lost his temper admirably ; for me, I shuffled along as an old man dazed 
with the scene ; and when we came to the water's edge felt secure enough to 
attempt a trifle of comedy business as Jose hoisted my old limbs on to the 
horse's back behind the paniers. It fetched a shout of laughter. And then, 
having slipped off boots and stockings deliberately, Jose took hold of the 
bridle again and waded into the stream. We were safe. 

I had found time for a glance at the farther bank, and saw thai the troopers 
were leisurely riding to and fro. They met and parted just as we entered the 
ford. Before we were half way across they had come near to the end of their 
beat, with about three hundred yards between them, and I was thinking this 
a fair opportunity for the Captain, when Jose said, "There he goes !" — low 
and quick — and with a souse horse and rider struck the water behind us by 
the gable of the inn. As the water splashed up around them we saw the 
horse slip on the stony bottom and fall back, almost burying his haunches ; 
but with two short heaves he had gained the good gravel and was plunging 
after us. The infantry spied him first — the two videttes were in the act of 
wheeling about, and heard the warning before they saw. Before they could 
put their chargers to the gallop Captain McNeill was past us and climbing the 
bank between them. A bullet or two sang over us from the Huerta bank. 
Not knowing of wdiat his horse was capable, I feared he might yet be headed 
off ; but the troopers, in their flurry, had lost their heads, and with it went 
their only chance, unless they could drop him by a lucky shot, They galloped 
straight for the ford-head, while the Captain slipped between, and were almost 
charging each other before they could pull up and wheel in pursuit. 



134 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

i. I!" said Jose simply. A bullet had struck one of our paniers, 

smashing a dozen eggs I by the smell he must have bought them cheap), and 
he halted and gesticulated in wrath, like a man in two minds about returning 
and demanding compensation. Then he seemed to think better of it, and we 
moved forward : but twice again before we reached dry land he turned and 
addressed the soldiers in furious Spanish across the babble of the ford. Jose 
had gifts ! 

For my part I was eager to watch the chase which the rise of the bank hid 
from us. though we could hear a few stray shots. But Jose's confidence 
proved well grounded, for when we struck the high road there was the Cap- 
tain half a mile away, within easy reach of the wood and a full two hundred 
yard- ahead of the foremost trooper. 

"Good !" said .lose again : ''now we can eat," and he pulled out a loaf of 
coarse bread from the injured panier, and, trimming oft' an end where the 
evil-smelling eggs had soaked it, divided it in two. On this and. a sprig or 
two of garlic we broke our fast, and were munching and jogging along con- 
tentedly when we met the returning videttes. They were not in the best of 
humors, you may be sure, and although we drew aside and paused with crusts 
half lifted to our open mouths to stare at them with true yokel admiration, 
they cursed us for taking up too much of the roadway, and one of them even 
made a cut with his sabre at the near panier of eggs. 

•• [t'swell he broke none,"' said I. as we watched them down the mad. "I 
don't deny you and your master any reasonable credit, but for my taste you 
leave a little too much to luck." 

Our road now began to skirt the wood into which the Captain had escaped, 
and we followed it lor a mile and more, Jose all the while whistling a Gypsy 
air which I guessed to carry a covert message ; and sure enough, after an 
hour of it, the same air was taken up in the wood to our right, where we 
found the Captain dismounted and seated comfortably at the foot of a cork tree. 

lie was good enough to pay me some pretty compliments, and, alter com- 
paring note-., we agreed that — my messenger being a good seven hours on his 
way with all the information Lord Wellington could need for the moment— 
we would keep company for a day or two, and a watch on the force and dis- 
position of the French advance; for we had yet to discover Marmont's 
objective. 

For, though in Salamanca the French officers had openly talked of the 
nit on (in. lad Rodrigo, there was still a chance (though neither of us be- 
lieved in it) thai their general meant to turn aside and strike southward for 
the TagUS. Our plan, therefore, was to snake for Tammanies where the roads 
divided, where the hills afforded good cover, and to wait. 

So toward- Tammanies (which lay some thirty miles off) we turned our 
faces, and arriving there on the - _!7th. encamped for two days among the hills. 
Ma i-ii i out had learnt on the Mlh that none of Wellington's divisions were on 
the Algueda, and we agreed, having watched his preparations, that on the 
27th he Would he ready to start. These two days, therefore, we Spent at ease. 

and I found the Captain, in spite of hi- narrow and hide-bound religion, an 
agreeable companion, lie had the McNeills' genealogy at his lingers' end, 



THE TWO SCOUTS. 135 

and I picked up more information from him concerning our ancestral home 
in Ross, and our ancestral habits, than I have ever been able to verify. I !< c 
tainly our grandfathers, Manus of Aranjuez and Angus (slain al Sheriffmuir) 
had been first cousins. Bui this discovery had no sooner raised me to a high 
and altogether wonderful claim on his regard than I found his cordiality 
chilled by the thoughl that I believed in the Pope, or (as he preferred to pul 
it ) anti-Christ My eminence as a genuine McNeill made the shadow of my 
error the taller. In these two days of inactivity 1 fell his solicitude growing 
until, next to the immediate movement of Marmont, my conversion became 
for him the most important question in the Peninsula, and I saw that unless 
I allowed him at least to attempt it, another forty-eight hours would wear 
him to fiddle-strings. 

Thus it happened that mid-day of the 30th found us on the wooded hill 
above the cross-roads, found me stretched at full length on my back and 
smoking, and the Captain ( who did not smoke) seated beside me with his 
pocket Testament, earnestly sapping the fundamental errors of Home, when 
.lose, who had been absent all the morning reconnoitring, hrought new- that 
Marmont's van (which he had been watching and ahead of which he had 
been dodging since ten o'clock) was barely two miles away. The Captain 
pulled out his watch, allowed them thirty-five minutes, and quietly proceeded 
with his exposition. As the head of the leading column swung into sight 
around the hase of the foot-hills, he sought in his haversack and drew out a 
small volume — the "Pilgrim's Progress" — and having dog's-eared a page of 
it, inscribed my name on the fly-leaf, "from his kinsman, Alan McNeill." 

•• It is a question," said he, as I thanked him, "and one often debated, if 
it be not better that a whole army, such as we see approaching, should perish 
bodily in every circumstance of horror, than that one soul, such as yours or 
mine, should fail to find the true light. For my pail,"— and here he seemed 
to deprecate a weakness—" I have never been able to go quite so far; 1 hope 
not from any lack of intellectual courage. Will you take notes while I dic- 
tate?" 

Soon the last leaf of the "Pilgrim's Progress" I entered the strength of 
each battalion, and noted each gun as the great army wound its way into 
Tammames below us, and through it for the cross-roads beyond, hut not in 
one body, for two of the battalions enjoyed an hour's halt there before setting 
forward after their comrades, by this time out of sight, They had taken the 
northern road. 

"Ciudad Rodrigo," said I, "and there goes Wellington's chance of Badajoz." 

The Captain beckoned to Jose* and whispered in his ear, then opened his 
Testamenl again as the sturdy little Spaniard set off down the hill with his 
Leisurely, loping -ait, so much faster than it seemed. 

The sun was setting when he returned with his report. 

"I thought SO," said the Captain. "Marmont has left three-fourths of his 
scaling ladders behind in Tammames. Ciudad Rodrigo he will not attempt ; 
I doubt if he means business with Almeida. If you please," he added, "Josi 
and I will push after and discover his real business, while you carry to Lord 
Wellington a piece of news it will do him good to hear." 



A METROPOLITAN NIGHT: 

GLIMPSES OF NhW YORK WITH A NEWSPAPER REPORTER. 
By Samuel Hopkins Adams. 

HALLETT sat at his desk in the 
New Era office grinding out a 
-.. - . _ . "special" for the Sunday is- 
7 sue. It didn't come easy, and 
between paragraphs he looked 
at the clock and scowled savage- 
ly in the direction of the city 
desk, because the city editor 
hadn't given him any assign- 
ment and the afternoon was al- 
most over. It is a cardinal 
tenet in the creed of every re- 
porter who writes on space that the city 
desk is an institution specially established 
for the purpose of giving him profitable 
assignments, and that the paper is going 
to the dogs if he doesn't get them. Hal- 
lett expressed to Tullamore, the long- 
wait man at the next desk, his pessimistic 
opinion that the city was getting too 
quiet to live in if it couldn't furnish 
enough news to go around. 

While they were discussing the 

vW I I Tl 'I \\^W ( I uestion ' Hallett was called by the 
city editor, and after a few moments' 
conversation with him, returned wearing 
a curious expression. 

"I've got the prize assignment of the 
year," he said. 

Tullamore looked up, inquiringly. 
"I'm to exhibit the City of New York 
to a juvenile Briton who has never seen it. 
He's to come here to the office, and I'm 
to take him out and show him the City 
Hull and Madison Square Garden and a few other rare and exciting sights, 
and say: 'This is New York. I hope you'll like it. If you don't, we'll 
have it changed.' The youngster's just landed, and by the way, he's the 
nephew of the < hief." 
Tullamore whistled and expressed sympathy. 
■ It- a five-dollar time charge and expenses, anyway," said Hallett. 
That is how Mi. Walter Hallett, general reporter for the New Era, found 




''FOB \ MOM! '-I Tlll-.Y ST i AND WATCHED 

THESWIKI i,i:ni IMM, <>l THE Cl/KIOUS." 
/., ./ u n by Charh Grun wald. 



A METROPOLITAN NIGHT. 



L37 



himself escorting Mr. Edward Kirke, late of Cambridge University, out into 
the rush and murmur of Park Row at the hour when all creation seem- 
ingly is struggling to gain either the Brooklyn Bridge or the Third Avenue 
Elevated Road, and exhibiting that carelessness of other people's comfort 
characteristic of the human animal when driven by hunger. In the short 
descent of the Btairs Hallett had taken an inventory of his companion and 
decided that lie was a dean cut youth of prepossessing appearance. 

His nai've query as to whether the Bowery was really dangerous, was the 
measure of his innocence as regards the metropolis. 

Once in Park Row, they pushed through the human current, jostled and 
jostling in turn, ran the gauntlet of the shrill newswomen and the persistent 
newsboys, and were presently in the stream of humanity which nightly sets 
up beyond the Bridge along what was formerly Chatham Street, immortalized 
for the American college man by the ditty of "Solomon Levi." The side- 
walks were crowded with homeward hound laborers and factory girls, and 
line d with impossible 
looking restaurants, and 
with pawnbrokers' sales 
shops, showing forth in 
t hei r lighted windows 
the incongruous miscel- 
lany which finds its way 
through the channel of 
narrowed circumstances 
to the sign of the three 
gilt halls. A short walk 
broughl them to a nar- 
row street, the side-walks 
of which were almost en- 
tirely overspread with 
shelters run out from 
little stores and hung 
with clothing of all sorts. 
No sooner had they 
turned into this street 
than they found them- 
Belves confronted by an 
excited and unmistak- 
ably Jewish eiti/.en who 
SOUght to lure them into 
a dubious-looking den 
with a siren song bear- 
ing the refrain of " Soch 
he-ewdiful cl od i n gs !" 
Thereupon figures like 
exaggerated spiders dart- 

1 BAXTER STREET — " SOCH BE-EWIUIII CLODIJJ 

ed from holes in the ,„,,„.„ ,„, ,.,„„.,„, ,..,,, ,„-,,. 




L38 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

wall on all sides and swarmed about the visitors with specious offers of 
bargains. 

One Mock of Baxter Street was enough. Turning off into Park Street, 
where the sullen stillness was broken only by the clamor of a drunken 
fight in some adjacent dive, they passed between dingy houses until a turn 
into Mott Street brought them under swaying and magnificent signs 
bodying forth dragons and golden suns, and other strange devices, the 
symbols of a transplanted civilization. The fire-escapes, transfigured by huge 
lanterns and exotic shrubs into Oriental quaintness, interested Kirke, who 
found it hard t<> believe that he was in the midst of purely American archi- 
tecture in a branch where it holds an unadmirahle pre-eminence, the tenement 
house, so disguised were the exteriors by banners, lanterns and strangely 
gorgeous placards. This was the edge of Chinatown, hut it was not until 
they wheeled into Pell Street that they encountered John Chinaman in force. 
There the whole breadth of the street fluttered with the flowing apparel of the 
Orientals, who were discussing something with an excitement unusual in that 
phlegmatic race. 

Kirke stopped to ask about a prevalent red sign with white lettering. 
" If you asked a Chinaman," said Hallett, "he'd tell you it meant that 
the Chinese Literary Society met there, or that there would be special services 
at the Joss house on Sunday, hut it really means that there's a fan-tan and 
general gambling joint inside." 

" You got too much know-it," said a quiet voice behind them. 
"Hello, Wing," said Hallett, turning around to greet a small Chinaman, 
dressed neatly in American fashion. "Thought you were in Sing Sing, or at 
least over on the Island." 

"Suppose you make another think," responded the Chinaman, without 
any tone of offense at the imputation. " You and friend like to try the pipe? 
High chop place I take you to. Friend of mine. Very clean, nice place." 

" Ih's inviting us to hit the pipe," said the reporter to Kirke. "Opium, 
you know, (iucss not, Wing. Too much else to do." 

The Chinaman nodded, and took Hallett aside to tell him something. 
When he returned to Kirke, Hallett was scribbling some notes on the back 
of an envelope. I [e explained : 

"It seems there is to he a revolt in one of the gam hi ing societies here. 
Some of the white girls of the quarter have put it up. They're Irish, and 
you can't keep 'em out of politics, as Wing says. I'll write something about 
it. W ing hag some :ix to grind, or he wouldn't be telling me this." 

Ai I the bent elbow of Doyers Street the two wanderers passed to a wide 

square so overshadowed by the juncture of two elevated lines, that to enter it 
was like coming into a low-ceilinged room. 

'This is Chatham Square," said Hallett, " It hasn't nearly the reputa- 
tion of tin' Bowery, hut it's immeasurably more picturesque in every way 
except traditionally." 

" 1 don't gee much in it. except a curious effect of streets emptying little 
stream- of people into i( from all >ide<," remarked Kirke. 

•' It doesn't appeal to the eye at first ; hut it's really quite a place if you 



I METROPOLITAN NIGHT. 




OUT INTO THE RUSH AND MURMUR OF PARK ROW." 
Drawn by < "harles Mente. 

watch it for a little. I'll expound for your benefit after the fashion of the 
guide books concerning some of its hidden beauties. Von noble pile rising 
to an apex of golden beer-sign is the saloon of the Hon. Mike Callahan, 
ex-Assemblyman, and one of the leading political lights of the district, who 
nol only keeps votes on tap, bul even exports them, it is said, in cases of 
necessity. Beyond Mike's, where you see that pre-Raphaelite board fence, a 



140 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

retired sailor will remember the Maine in appropriate colors on an portion of 
you for the modes! sum of half a dollar. The decorations on the fence are of 
his own tatooing. A few doors up from him is another variety of fence. If 
you should happen to hecoine covertly possessed of another person's watch or 
scarf pin and wished to realize quietly on it, the enterprising proprietor of the 
place would give you about one-fifth value, no questions asked. That laundry 
iu the basement across the way used to purvey the best smoking opium in the 
city, and just around the corner from it you could buy knock-out drops at 
fifty cents a vial. Knock-out is what they drug drinks with for the purpose 
of robbery, and the men who do it are called peter-players. There used to 
he also three joints where the peter-players carried on their business, hut the 
police ran them out of the locality. Up toward the Bowery where you see 
that red liuht. an ingenious artisan manufactures mermaids, sea-serpents, 
petrified men, and other freaks for the dime museum trade. In addition to 
these, there was a fancy jewelry shop, and counterfeiters' headquarters facing 
on the square. There are doubtless other homes of equally worthy industry 
that I don't think of at present, but if you'll take a look at the people you'll 
si i what New York can turn out in the line of assorted nationalities and 
grades of humanity." 

Kirke fixed his eyes on the shifting panorama that rolled across the line of 
vision. There were bearded and venerable Jews — reverenced men in the 
synagogues, many of them, doubtless — hurrying along with huge bundles of 
clothing in their arms, the finished work of the sweatshops which a complacent 
Legal fiction supposes to be extinct. Smug-faced Chinamen trotted in pairs, 
the sound of their conversation striking the ear in wooden and sing-song 
cadence. A crowd of newsboys and bootblacks, flush for the night, passed 
up into the Bo.very, wrangling volubly, to spend an enchanted evening in 
the "peanul gallery" of some theatre. A little group of Irish workingmen 
plodded along, puffing worldly wisdom from their short pipes. Some Italians 
in gala array bore large wax candles to a church celebration. A pair of stolid 
Bohemians, their cigar factory work done, crossed over to Division street for a 
-hmt cut to the far East Side. Two girls with flashy clothes and drawn faces 
turned into Dover street cackling laughter at a drunkard who had fallen into 
the gutter. Whining professionally, a ragged disreputable approached the two 
spectators with a tale of hunger and homelessness. A woman whose pinched 

i and hollow eyes told of hitter labor and privation hurried along carrying 
a baby in her arms. A sleek politician, bediamonded, silk-hatted, smiling 
and suave, stopped to invite a little group of mechanics to have a drink with 
him. ami turned to flourish a how to a crowd of bright-eyed Jewish girls, out 
perhaps on ;i shopping expedition, whose laughing voices caught his ear. 
A square-jawed, brutal-looking young fellow tramped past talking to a com- 
panion in the canl language of the prize ring. Several sailors, trailed by two 
Bowery sharks, rolled along with the free ami easy swing of Jack ashore with 
money in hi- pocket. 

Division Streel for a long block shines brighl under the shadowing structure 
of the elevated road with the lights of Milliner's how, which provides head- 
gear to the belles of the Easl Side. The two excursionists were pounced upon 



A METROPOLITAN NIGHT. 



ill 



by the watchful 
.if u esses w li o 
patrol in front 
of the s h o p b , 
and besoughl to 
purchase \\ on- 
dere of millinery 
at prices to 
break the heart 
of the trade. In 
eloquence t h e 
fair ones outdid 
their brothers of 
Baxter Street ; 
nor were they 
fa r behind in 
muscular p e r - 
suasion. Hallett 
rescued K i r k e 
from the blan- 
dishments of two 
agile shop wom- 
en who had cor- 
nered him, and 
t li ey escaped 
into Allen Street, 
the street where 
the red lamps 
advertise vic< — 
a street of dark- 
ness and filth 
and moral pes- 
tilence. 

Grand Street "'you got too .much know-it,' said a quiet voick behind them. - ' 
by li i '_;" 1 1 t is ;i Drawn by Charles Qrunwald. 

slow but Bparkling stream flowing between hanks of show windows abloom 
with gay fabrics and the flowering bonnet. As they stepped within the wale 
of light the two wanderers found themselves pressed forward with the east- 
ward-bound current. Bits and snatches of the public talk reached their cars. 
Now it was two girls discussing the latest fashion in belts ; now a group of 
trim and beflowered youths gossipping over the ball of the Essex Street Social 
Rangers; now a party of voluble Jewish women scandalously alleging that 
she was going to marry a Christian; now a vehement political discussion 
among excited friends. At the doors of the great shops furious i ddies forced 
the promenaders oul into the roadway. Everyone seemed good-natured and 
bent On pleasure. Laughter and the fresh voices of girls rang in the air. It 
was like a street festival. 




1 12 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MOMHLY 



m$k 



5SRi 



Turning to the righl into Essex Street, they passed between swarming tene- 
ments, any one of which could have furnished a population for a considerable 
country town, until they Eound themselves blocked at a cross street by a con- 
geries of pushcarts. The air was lull of clamor and weird, piercing smells. 
Hallett dragged his companion out into the middle of the street, and took up 
a strategic position between an old Jew who was selling bandanas and a young 
one who was trying to sell suspenders. On all sides were pushcarts full of fruit, 
clothing, cutleiy, ribbons, candies, leather pocketbooks and ledgers, spectacles, 
masks, chickens, fish of many kinds, salads, vegetables, glass-cutters, pocket 
microscopes, mouth organs, chromos, combs and brushes, mirrors and pictures, 
and quantities of literature in the Hebrew-charactered jargon of the locality, 
which is a bastard mixture of German, Hebrew, and the Slav dialects, with 
an occasional word of English, chiefly slang. In the tossing light of torches 
the scene was that of a witches' revel of trade — inconceivable, unreal, ready to 
vanish at the presto of a dissolving word into empty blackness. Kirke 
struggled between interest in the scene and disrelish of the atmosphere. 

As they threaded a tortuous way through the choked asphalt pavement the 
reporter pointed out that the carts and stands doing the best business were 

those whose wares might be classed as 
luxuries, and that for such the prices 
were well up to the rates charged by the 
best uptown shops. After one block of 
struggle they turned back to Grand Street 
and were soon seated at a table in a big 
' restaurant with walls that set forth 
castles, and ship- 
wrecks, and bat- 
tlefields with great 
breadth of treat- 
ment and reckless 
prodigality of 
paint. The steak, 
in the G e rm an 
style, was excel- 
lent, and the Rhine 
wine of so good a 
quality that Kirke 
expressed surprise. 
" It's a grea t 
place for the East 
Side politicians, 1 ' 
said Hallett, "and 
they like to live 
well. We've spent 
all the time we can 
on the East Side. 
Now we'll take a 




A METROPOLITAN NIGHT. 



143 



look at the borderland. I warn 
you right here that you'll be 
disappointed in the Bowery." 

The great broad way that they 
turned into, with its parallel 
lines of elevated road just over- 
edging the sidewalk, was ablaze 
with lights. Concert hall, sa- 
loon, shop, and lodging 
house contributed each its 
radiance to the general £-g 
glitter. Uptown from the 
corner where they stood 
the reporter pointed out 
to his companion 
a splotch of bril- 
liancy that out- 
shone the others, 
the sign of a resort 
infamous not so 
in u c h from the 
Buicides of disso- 
lute women at its 
drinking tables as from 
the fact that the victims 
were dissolute women 
and suicides before they 
were twenty years old. 
Three bold-eyed girls, 
escorted by a party of 
half-drunken sailors, 
passi d. naming hoarsely 
the place as their destina- 
tion. The sidewalks were 
not crowded, for it was now nearly nine o'clock, and at that hour the Bowery 
theatres and museums are already full, and the dives which go under the 
name of music halls have not vet begun to pass their clients from one door to 
another "along the line." What population the Bowery showed was not of 
sinister appearance. Laboring men were many, and there were women of 
obvious respectability walking along. Ilallett nodded to a detective from 
the Police Headquarters Btaff on the look-out for pickpockets, who observed 
that the Bowery was a "dead one." Kirke said to Ilallett that he wouldn't 
have taken the street for a particularly tough place. 

" Neither would anybody who knows anything aboul it," said the reporter. 
" Talk about giving a dog a bad name ! ( rive a street a bad name and people 
will sing songs about it all over the civilized world. A woman walking alone 
at night is safer from insult on the Bowery than on any Fifth Avenue block." 




SEVERAL SAILORS TRAILED BY 
TWO BOWERY SHARKS." 
Drawn by Charles Grunwald. 



lil FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

The clanging of a gong and the rattle of a fast driven vehicle interrupted 
him, and an ambulance whirled by them pulling up at the door of a fifteen- 
rent Lodging house. For a momenl they stood and watched the swift grouping 
of the curious, the carrying oul of the patient by the ambulance surgeon 
aided by two policemen, his prompt ensconcement in the vehicle, and then 
the dispersal of the Little crowd as the banging gong warned all wheeled 
creation thai medical aid must have its clear road to the hospital. 

'• Drunken hobo," said a man from the crowd as he passed them. "Fell 
down-stairs and broke his leg. He'll live easy for a month/' 

Past pawn shop, Lodging house and saloon they tramped, until the Bowery 

see] l to narrow and darken before them. By an almost circular route they 

had come back nearly to Chatham Square. They caught the strains of a 
Strauss waltz ending, as they entered a swinging door with "Atlantic Garden " 
over it. Passing through a barroom they came to a huge interior furnished 
witli hundreds of small circular tables, around which people were sitting 
before glasses of beer and other drinks, applauding an orchestra of women 
which was just leaving the stage. The people were mostly of Jewish type, evi- 
dently of the poorer classes, and largely in family parties. Frowsy peddlers 
circulated trying to sell unappetizing-looking sweetmeats an(f curiously 
coated breadstuffs, hut the beer was of good quality, and as the two sat down 
at a table shared by a young couple, who held each other by the hand with 
candor, the solemn opening measures of the "Tannhauser" overture filled 
the air. and imposed silence upon the crowd. 

"] just wanted to show you,'' remarked Hallett, "that the Bowery 
isn'1 all sordid and degraded. They have their love of the beautiful down 
here, too. If we were out on a musical expedition we might do worse than 
stay here, hut there's more New York outside." 

A shorl walk and a turn brought them to the old-clo' region of Bayard 
Street, through which they passed into a wide space of darkness and 
open air. 

"Mulberry Bend Park," said Hallett. "They rooted out the worst 
Italian colony iii New York to make it. A few of the old dives are left yet 
around the edges." 

•• Where now?" asked Kirke, as Hallett started up Mulberry Street. 
•• Police Headquarters. I want to turn out that Chinatown story." 
Jabbering Italians, returned to town after their week's work on the rail- 
roads in the suburban districts, to celebrate Saturday nighl on their week's 
wages, filled Hh- air with their lively and harsh accents. It was slow progress, 
for the way was crowded, but ten minutes of it hrought them to their destina- 
tion. Polic( Headquarters loomed up ghastly white behind its green lamps. 
Halletl retired to theroom maintained by his paper in an ex-tenement building 
acr08 p lie- -tr.,1. and there sat down to grind out his " story " for the next 
morning's issue, firsl telephoning the night city editor that he had a half 
column of copy, while Kirke was turned over to the headquarters reporter to 
nave explained to him the'workings of the police nerve-centre of the city. 
Thi 3torj being finished, Halletl led his charge across Houston Street to 
gouth filth Avenue, and thence up to Wesl Third Street, following the turn 



I METROPOLITAN NIGHT. 



1* 5 








ESSEX STREET — A WITCHES REVEL OF TRADE. 
Drawn by CTkartes ffruntoald. 



of the elevated road. This Btreet, dark with a cavernous dimness, enveloped 
them with the chill of dank, unclean air. Houses in many states of disrepair 
and disrepute lined the walks. No person stirred about in the street, but 
dark figures loitered at basement entrances, and turned to look at the two 
men as they passed. From open shutters little rays of light served to accen- 
tuate the outer darkness, and where these rays were was also a strange, strained 

sound of hissing. 

"See here." said Kirke, after a while, "this lsn'1 a cheerful locality. I 
think I should be timid if I were alone. What's that infernal noise?" 

Hallett -topped before one of the windows and whistled softly. The blind 
Bwung swiftly, disclosing a hideous travesty of feminine beauty, eked out 
with paint and false jewels. 



146 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



"You have the type in London," said the reporter, "only here our Eves 
have tin' voice of the original serpent. The fact is, this is one of the vilest 
streets in New York. Vice follows the darkness, you see." 

"Isn't there any part of New York that's respectable?" demanded Kirke. 

"Plenty of it." said the reporter in surprise. "What was the matter 
with Grand Street respectability? It's a Better brand than the Fifth Avenue 
variety. Got more temptation to resist. Anyway, the up-town respectable 
places you can see any time. I'm trying to show you a few places that 




.vi i. win < . \i;m,\ 



A HUGE INTERIOR, Willi HUNDRl DS I IF 
Drawn by > Tiai h 8 Orunwald. 



SMALL TABLES. 



A METROPOLITAN NIGHT. 



147 



you nii.u r lit not otherwise hap- 
pen upon. ( '< >t in ■ and help me 
get hopelessly lost in the depths 
of the West Side." 

They got themselves into the 
labyrinth of the ways thai 
make "1*1 Greenwich village 
like a badly mixed spider web ; 
wandered past rows of an- 
cient wooilm cottages, stand- 
ing far back from the street ; 
by buzzing factories and black, 
lofty tenements, through dead, silent lit- 
tle thoroughfares with occasional trees 
growing out from the sidewalks ; came 
suddenly upon a noble church rising 
solemnly above its surroundings of squalid 
Italian lodgings, and faced by a roaring 
freight office ; and finally brought up at 
that central knot of the tangle where 
West Twelfth and West Fourth streets, 
which ought to run sweetly parallel, turn 
savagely upon each other and intersect 
at right angles. After that they caught 
an Eighth Avenue car which came sliding 
into sight opportunely and went uptown 
''where there arc people and lights," as 
llallett said. For the lights they hadn't 
long to wait. There are few streets brighter 
bynightthan Eighth avenue, which is the 
great shopping district for the West Side. 

The " New Bowery," as it is not very happily nicknamed, was full of 
family parties, not promenading pleasurably as in Grand Street, but following 
the important business of shopping with a stern severity. At Thirty-third 
Street they jumped off and bent their steps eastward. Between Seventh and 
Sixth Avenues vice hissed at them again from the windows of rickety hovel- 
occupied by blacks and whites alternately. Half a block away was Broadway, 
a block further Fifth Avenue. New York is a city of sharp and huddled con- 
trasts, and in its ever shifting tides of population the slums touch elbows 
with fashion on more than one corner. Above and ahead of them the way- 
farers saw a diffused radiance. As they emerged from the street into the 
open space where Sixth Avenue and Broadway come together, Kirke blinked 
a little in the glare of the most brilliant night scene of the city. Clusters 
and constellations of electric radiance glowed in succession as far as the eye 
could see. 

There was a constant stream of people passing along Broadway, and Kirke 
remarked upon what he termed the " stag party ' aspect of the thoroughfare ; 




Will) STOOD ABOUT ON THE CORNERS AND 
CONVERSED WITH AN APPEARANCE 
OF INTENSE SOLEMNITY." 
Drawn by Charles Qrunwald. 



148 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

also upon the numbers of clean-shaven, big, faultlessly clad men who stood 
about on the corners and conversed with an appearance of intense solemnity. 
These, Hallett told him, were the sporting men of the region ; backers of 
prize-fighters, owners of race horses and the like. As for the preponderance 
of the male elemenl in the Broadway current, that would be changed when 
the theatres were out. The reporter led his companion away from the gay 
scene to show him what he termed "a rare and unique collection of human- 
kind," and presently they were in a vast hotel corridor lined on either side 
with chairs in which sat men and women, very highly dressed and presenting 
a general aspect of purposelessness quite pitiful to see. They spoke little. 
They just sat there, patient and inert ; a little saddened, perhaps a little 
soured by the struggle for enjoyment. One could readily see that they had 
been sitting tor a long time ; would probably continue to sit there for a longer 
time : why. it would be difficult to guess. Young men in evening dress and 
long overcoats paraded in the broad space before the desk chatting languidly 
with each other. These wore an air of bored expectancy born of the all too 
seldom realized hope that presently somebody would come along and buy 
them a drink. Kirke took in the details of the scene with a growing expres- 
sion of puzzlement. 

"It's very smart, I suppose," he said doubtfully. " I suppose the people 
in the chairs are your New York society?" 

"If you supposed out loud most of them would fall in a fit of joy. They've 
come all the way from Oshkosh and further and are spending good money in 
the hope that somebody will think that. Curious, isn't it? This is the best 
hotel in the world, and it makes pretty nearly the most dismal human exhibit 
outside of the Bowery lodging houses." 

Kirke didn't find the exhibit exhilarating for long. "Not half so much 
fun as Grand Street," he said, so they returned to Broadway and at midnight 
were seated in a fantastically ornate restaurant finishing their cigarettes after 
supper. The tables were crowded with brilliantly dressed women who wore 
large quantities of jewels and seemed to consider it beneath their dignity to 
drink anything less than champagne. Hallett pointed out a famous comic 
opera singer ; a young actor who was dining quietly with a friend ; a western 
senator who by persistent spending had won the doubtful reputation among 
the frail ones of the Tenderloin of being the "good thing of the season"; a 
group of local politicians, a theatrical manager with the hading lady of his 
company, and the son of a much denounced millionaire doing his best to 
relieve his father of the reproach of much riches. There was a general air of 
festivity painfully achieved that struck Kirke. 

■ I- this your demi-monde?" he asked. 

Hallett nodded. "So far as we have such a thing, it is." 

"Well, it's getting late," said Kirke, rising. 

"< )h. we haven't half sc.u things yet,*' objected the reporter. "And any- 
way, I've got one more exhibit that you must set'. We'll jump into a cab 
and be there in a shake." 

They drove down from the brightness of Broadway to its darkness and 
stopped at the corner of Tenth Street. What looked like a huge serpent 



A METROPOLITAN NIGHT. 



149 



stretched along the sidewalk. It proved to be made up of nun ; men with 
the bent head and the huddled Bhouldere of misery. There weir perhaps two 
hundred in the line standing in a constantly lengthening Bingle file. Some of 




the members jpgged up and down to keep warm. Others sat on the cold stone 
pavement. Near the rear a man with a shattering cough broke the silence of 
his companions. The head of the line wa< around in Tenth Street east of 
Broadway, and there was a break across the walk to leave a clear passage. 



150 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

Hallett jumped from the cab on the opposite side of Broadway and motioned 
to his companion to alight. 

"The Misery Club," he said, pointing to the line. " They've been in ses- 
sion a couple of hours, and they'll be there til] half-past one. And what do 
you suppose the reward is? A chunk of dry bread." 

"Good heavens !" said the other, and started across the street, hand in 
pocket, hut the reporter stopped him. 

•• No use in that. You'll only have unpleasant dreams. I've stood in line 
ami heard stories to make a man disbelieve in God's justice, let alone mercy. 
1 don't mind a beggar, hut those chaps are past that. No man stands in 
that line unless he's reached the depths. It may seem like a mockery to you 
to give those fellows nothing but a crust of bread, hut it's really one of the 
most effectual private charities in town. It's the baker there that gives it." 

Kirke stood irresolute. Just then a belated carriage drove up Broadway, 
and from its open windows came the sound of women's laughter and the 
warm fragrance of roses. One of the waiting men threw up his hand and 
cursed. 

"That's anarchy in the making," said Hallett with a short laugh. 

But Kirke was already half way across the street. He seized the man who 
had spoken, drew him out of the line, and pressed a bill into his hand ; then 
caught the arm of the sufferer from the cough. 

'■ You two," he said hurriedly, "go and get a meal, a square meal. And 
get three or four more to go with you." He picked out half a dozen men at 
random. "Nevermind thanking me. Where do you sleep ? Wheredidyou 
sleep last night ?" 

"ruder a dock." harked the coughing man, torn with a spasm. 

"Here, get lodgings with that." He thrust another bill on the man. 
w - Let go of me, Hallett ; it's my own money." 

The rest of the line looked on stolidly, without envy or excitement, while 
their luckier companions shuffled away. The reporter got his charge back to 
the cab. 

•• You've had enough of New York for one dose," said he as they shook 
hands. ■•I'm for downtown. Goodnight." 

Tullamore, the long wait man, was writing an Italian murder — murderer 
escaped as usual in Italian cases — from the telephone when Hallett came in. 
I [e looked up to inquire : 

"How do you like chaperoning? Good Swedish wedding riot came in 
jusl after you left. Groom got full and lighted his cigar with the certificate, 
and the hride's family didn't do a thing hut qualify him for Bellevue. It 
was worth an easy three-quarters to you if you'd been here." 

"I've made a pretty g 1 nightj myself, thank you." said Hallett, 

■ Must have picked the pockets of the Chief's nephew, then." 

•All legitimate charges, on the contrary. Five dollars time for tin 1 excur- 
sion ; picked up a half-column yarn in Chinatown Four dollars more ; ami 
•jot a pointer for another special that I can work for ten more. Nineteen 
dollars, and a good dinner and nipper at the paper's expense, isn't so much 
worse than a Swede wedding. Besides, ['ve seen New York." 



THE GREATEST PASSION IN HISTORY. 

JUANA LA LOCA. 

Bv Blanche Z vcharie Barali . 

rpHIS love-mad queen is a mosl curious psychological study and a poetic 
figure of incomparable tragic grandeur. What a pity that Shakespeare 
did not apply his genius to this capital subject, instead of singing the 

woes of her far less interesting sister, Katherine of Aragon ! Although Juana 

has inspired many poets, he alone could have done full justice to such a 

theme. 

We see embodied in this frail creature, a towering passion whose titanic 
strength rent asunder her reason. She was the victim of a love so great that 
the abnormal development of the affectional faculty disturbed the equilibrium 
of the others. Her love is like a Niagara of the heart, which awes one by its 
magnitude. It is in the world of emotion a counterpart to the Pharaonic 
pyramids in the material world. It cannot be discussed ; one can but ob- 
serve, feel and wonder. 

This daughter of Fernando and Isabel was horn amidst the splendor of 
what was at the time the greatest court in Christendom. Her Catholic Ma- 
jesty bestowed on her children much care and luxury ; she was above all 
attentive that their minds should be adorned with every accomplishment. 
The princesses were, therefore, instructed in sewing, embroidery, painting 
and music. Juana was, moreover, versed in science and spoke fluently sev- 
eral languages, being especially proficient in Latin. Her preceptor was Juan 
Luis Vives, the prince of Spanish philosophers; hut, in one respect, his 
teachings were fatal to Juana. In a work on the Christian woman he advo- 
cates idolatry of the husband, and almost suhstitutes this for the worship 
of the Divinity. 

From her earliest years the Infanta showed, as is usual in highly sensitive 
natures, a passionate love for music, and even to her last days, when her life 
had become so austere, she retained the singers of her chapel. 

Fernando of Aragon, with his calculating nature and practical foresight, 
sought every means to form brilliant alliances for his children, and, after some 
difficulties, succeeded in effecting the betrothal of his second daughter. Juana, 
to Philip, Archduke of Flanders, son of the Emperor Maximilian of Germany. 

Shortly afterwards the Princess embarked at Laredo, to join her affianced 
husband. In August, 1496, a fleet, consisting of one hundred and thirty 
vessels, large and small, manned by fifteen thousand sailors, was organized 
to escorl her. "A more gallant and beautiful armada," says Prescott, "never 
before left the shores of Spain." Nothing was wanting: bishops, chaplains, 
chamberlains, cup-bearers — in line, the complete household i^( a palace, in- 
cluding ladies-in-waiting and maids-of-honor. Two caravels were laden with 
the bride's trousseau, which comprised the richest fabrics and laces in the 
kingdom. Queen Isabel accompanied her daughter to Laredo, spent two 
nights with her on shipboard, and departed bathed in tears. 



152 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

Juana was sixteen, she sailed forth towards the unhtiown, her young and 
ardent lir.iii -welling with delightful fear. The teachings of Vives had im- 
bued her with the idea that it was necessary to "adore him who should lead 
her to the altar, 1 " and, with implicit obedience, she proposed to fulfill his 
admonitions to the letter. 

A tempest arose in the Bay of Biscay, and the sumptuous trousseau was 
swallowed by the sea. The fleet, in a wretched condition, reached at length 
the shores of Flanders. But the bridegroom was absent ; he was hunting in 
Tyrol with his father, and seemed quite indifferent to his fianck's coming. 

The meeting took place a few weeks later at Lille, where the marriage was 
solemnized. From the first moment Juana beheld Philip she became deeply 
enamored. What duty had begun, nature finished, as he was a youth of 
great physical attractiveness. 

A writer of the time thus describes the Archduke : "Philip was above mid- 
dle height. He had a fair, florid complexion; regular features; long, flowing 
locks, and a well-made, symmetrical figure." Indeed, he was so distin- 
guished for comeliness that he is designated on the roll of Spanish kings as 
Philip the Handsome. But his moral qualities were by no means as com- 
mendable, although he was frank and gay ; but impetuous of temper, aban- 
doning himself to the impulse of the moment, whether for good or evil; fond 
of pleasure and cold of heart. 

Soon after her marriage, Juana became heedless to everything save the 
magic of her husband's presence. The large retinue of Spaniards who had 
accompanied her to Flanders were left to suffer from hunger and shiver with 
cold in the northern climate, as she in nowise busied herself about them. 
Ibr royal parents, having received no tidings since her departure, were 
obliged to despatch a special messenger over the Pyrenees. 

.Meanwhile the Archduke held his wife in subjection, failing to give her a 
single ducat of the large sum stipulated in the marriage contract, Her do- 
ne-tic and political obliteration had begun ; she was a zero even in her own 
household. All this was nothing to Juana. She was happy, or at least con- 
sidered herself so, as she loved and was beloved by Philip. 

The death of her brother, Prince John, and of her nephew, the little Don 
Miguel, left Juana heir apparent to the throne of Castile and Aragon. Fer- 
nando and Isabel, after many urgent appeals, persuaded her to visit Spain 
with her husband, and receive hei people's homage as Princess of Asturias.* 

but Philip was ill at ease amidst the stiff etiquette of the Spanish court. 
His mem disposition was under restraint, and he fretted to gel back to his 
native Ian. I. Juana begged him on her knees, with tears in her eyes, to 
remain with her. but her entreaties were of no avail. lie left for the North 
with hi- gay follower-, passing through Paris, where he was magnificently 
entertained by the French king, bonis XII. 

Hi- departure almost broke Juana's heart. She was overwhelmed by sad- 
ness and fell a prey to deep melancholy. Her parents tried in vain to amuse 
her with tournaments and fetes, but all to no effect. The court physician 

The title of the heir to the Spanish throne : equivalent to that of Prince of Wales, 
in England. 



77/ A; (iREATKST I'ASSlOS I.X HISTORY 



L53 



thus depicts her condition: "The health <>[ the Lady Princess i- such thai 
not only to those who love her, hut to any stranger, the sigh! of her gives 




much pity ; because she sleeps badly, eats little, is very sad and quite thin 
At times she will not talk." 

Alas, medical skill is powerless to heal a wounded heart ! 



154 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

The time arrived when the anguish of separation was more than she could 
bear. She determined to leave everything and rejoin her husband. Here we 
have the first manifestation of the madness which darkened her life. She 
left the palace at night to go — she knew not where — in search of Philip. And 
when the draw-bridges were raised to prevent her escape, and she was obliged 
to return, she remained plunged in dejection at her castle gates, indifferent to 
the cold, and heedless of the voice of her advisers. 

When spring came she was allowed to set sail for Flanders. How her 
heart beat within her when she sighted the promised land ! What ineffable 
happiness did she anticipate in that first embrace, in meeting him from whom 
she would never part again! Her joy, alas! was to he but fleeting, for she 
perceived Philip's change of manner towards her. Investigation proved 
that he was faithless to her. Juana's violent temperament and the Arch- 
duke's inconstancy gave rise to the most scandalous scenes. The Princess 
personally assaulted her rival in the palace, and caused the golden locks 
which had captured the royal fancy in their meshes to be shorn from her 
head. Imagine what anguish tormented this poor soul crazed by jealousy ! 
Think of the stately daughter of Isabel the Catholic wrestling with a courte- 
san ! But this was not the w r orst. Juana, thinking she had acted in justice, 
counted upon the repentance of her consort. Instead of a penitent she found 
a judge. He was incensed at her conduct, and treated her harshly ; some 
historians even assert that he struck her. As the Archduchess was extremely 
sensitive, she so suffered from this usage that she became seriously ill, and it 
was feared she would lose her reason. But her love was so great that when 
she had regained her lucidity of thought she endeavored to justify the culprit. 
The social conscience of the period, moreover, made light of his offenses. 
Besides, had not the master Vives given her the precept " That a good wife 
should suffer and hear with patience her husband's infidelity" ? 

Queen [sabel died in 1504, and the crown of Castile descended upon the 
brows of the Flemish Archduchess. Rumors of the unhappy Princess's men- 
tal condition were rife, and her father, of Aragon, fearful to confide the reins 
of government to the hands of an unbalanced queen and frivolous king, tried 
to usurp the throne which was by right his daughter's. Although kept in 
absolute ignorance of the state of affairs, murmurs of her questioned sanity 
reached her ears. 

Sr. Rodriguez Villa, in a recent work on Juana of Castile, publishes a here- 
tofore unknown letter, written by the queen's own hand, and addressed to 
the Flemish ambassador to Spain, in which she utter- these touching words : 
■ Bui since they judge me as lacking in wit, 1 must be wary of my actions. 
... If in anything I have acted rashly, and failed to keep the state becom- 
ing to my dignity, it is notorious that there has been no other cause but jeal- 
ousy : and this passion is not found in me alone, but the Queen, my mother, 

to whom God give glory ! — who was so excellent and select a person in this 
world, was likewise jealous ; bul time healed Her Majesty as, please God, it 
will me." This trail is deeply moving and pathetic. 

Philip's ambition was flattered by the prospect of wearing a kingly crown ; 
and. iii spite of his dislike for Spain, he set out at once to take possession of 



Till': GREATEST PASSION IN HISTORY. L55 

his new domains. Owing to the Btrained relations with France, it wae nol 
deemed advisable to pass through that country, bo Philip and Juana sel sail 
in midwinter for the Spanish peninsula, leaving behind them their three chil- 
dren the Princesses Leonor and [sabel and the Prince Charles, who was to be 
later the mighty Emperor Charles V. 

Having passed the coasl of Brittany, a greal storm bursl over theocean, scat- 
tering the fleet and engulfing some of the minor vessels in the waves. To add 
to the distress, a fire broke out on board the Archduke's ship. Confusion 
and panic reigned on all sides; but Juana remained calm and courageous, 
comforting her followers. While Philip buckled on a leather life-preserver 
filled with air. his brave wife reminded him that no king had ever perished 
by drowning. Seeing, however, that the danger was becoming more immi- 
nent, she repaired to her cabin, donned her robe- of state, covered herself 
with pearls and precious stones, and, clinging to her husband, declared that 
she would bind herself to his body, to die, as she had lived, with him ' 

But the tempest ceased and the waves were calmed. After many trials the 
new sovereigns reached Spanish soil and were enthusiastically received by 
their subjects. Philip took thcsceptre in his own hands and Juana was for- 
gotten. She had no will but his, and abandoned her rights most willingly to 
him. He continued to be a most unnatural husband ; using such cruelty 
"that the wife of a peasant would have considered herself most unfortunate 
had she been treated in like manner." Well may we say that love is blind, 
for "Juana was never unhappy being near Philip," says the old chronicle. 

This happiness was not to last much longer. The treacherous climate of 
Spain, which had played such havoc among the Flemings, made no excep- 
tion in favor of the King. Philip, being of a sanguine and vigorous consti- 
tution, was very fond of manly sports. After a spirited game of ball, in 
which he became overheated, he remained in a cold place without sufficient 
covering. Paying no attention to the first symptoms <>f disease, he went to 
the chase the following day, already a prey to a high fever. Pulmonary con- 
gestion set in, and in six days he breathed his last. 

Doctor de la Parr a thus describes the death-bed of the handsome King: 
"During the five hours I was in attendance 1 saw the Queen, my lady, con- 
stantly there, giving orders, nursing, and speaking to the King and to us : 
and treating the King with a sweetness, tact, gentleness and grace that I have 
never seen equalled by any woman of whatsoever condition.' 

Philip's body was embalmed with the greatest care, clothed in splendid 
brocades, velvets and ermine; on his breast glistened a cross of jewels and 
his feet were encased in embroidered Flemish buskins. Juana stood by, gaz- 
ing in ecstasy on the form of the besl loved man in history. 

In the first moments of her widowhood she displayed much calmness and 
wisdom. Alas, the calm of the sea before the storm ! Juana. arousing at 
last from her stupor, threw herself on the corpse, covering it with passionate 
kisses, and would have remained there forever, had she not been removed by 
sheer force. 

Until now Juana does no more than is natural for any loving wife who loses 
the cherished partner of her life. But other widows an consoled or, at least, 



156 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

time tempers their grief. This healing quality of time is one of God's great- 
esl mercies. For poor Juana time rolled on in vain ; she remained until her 
last day plunged in a despair which, fifty years later, was as fresh and intense 
as on the first day of her bereavement. 

Fernando had the body removed to the convent of Miraflores, but the Queen 
could not suffer it away from her. She followed thither the bier, and tearing 
away wood, lead and cloth, took off the velvet shoes and silken hose, and 
pressed her feverish lips to Philip's lifeless feet. 

It was decided that the remains should be taken from Burgos to Granada, 
and Juana could not but accompany it. According to the mediaeval Spanish 
custom. "Widows should not be seen," so the solemn procession travelled 
by night, resting during the day in some hospitable monastery. Thus was 
fulfilled the prophecy of a Celtic witch, who told Philip "that he would 
travel in Spain over more roads, and for a longer time, dead than alive." 

While the Queen was intent only on the tragic broodings of her soul, the 
grandees of the kingdom formed projects for another marriage. Some argued 
that her grief would yield to a new wooing. But the well laid plans of Fer- 
nando and his counsellors were crushed against the rock of Juana' s will. 

Pradilla, in his wonderful painting, has sought to express the awful poetry of 
this love-frenzied queen, travelling with the dead through the sterile plains of 
( ;i-tile. The legend goes that Juana was even jealous about the corpse ; and 
once, when the only convent near was a nunnery, the whole cortege had to 
spend the night in the open, as the Queen refused to place the body in a 
house where there were women. 

After many months, a final resting-place was selected at Tordesillas. There 
the unhappy Queen spent Unit/seven years, giving up her whole life to lamen- 
tation. The world was completely dead to her, and neither Fernando nor her 
son could awaken her interest in the State. The years sped by without a 
change in this existence, apparently so monotonous, but so rich in emotions, 
■dated .-Hid feverish within. The gigantic strides of the Renaissance, the 
death of her father, the arrival in Spain of her son — Charles V., the most 
powerful prince in Christendom — disturbed in no wise the life of this woman 
with but one fixed idea. 

( )ne day her children, Leonor and Charles, having come from Flanders, were 
brought before her. She received them sweetly, but without enthusiasm, and 
when they opened their arms to her she asked : "Are ye reallv my 
children?" 

Juana clung, however, to one of her daughters. This was her youngest 
child, the Infanta Catalina. born after Philip's death. Did she love this little 
one as a mother should ? No. She held her constantly near, simply because 
the young Princess was the living image of her father. 

An eminent Spanish writer, Senora Emilia Pardo Bazan, to whom I am 
indebted for valuable data, has called Juana " the Don Quixote of conjugal 
affection." Like him, she recovered her reason just before death ; lamenting 
the years spent away from ( Sod. 

but hei repentance was complete, and the Cross received the last kiss of 
those ardenl lips. 



THE BATH COMEDY.* 




By Agnes and Egerton Castle, 
\i i mors of "The Pride ok Jennn o," " April Bloom," bt< .) 

SCENE XX. 

HE side-rays of the chaise-lamps played on the widow's soft, 
saucy face, threw beguiling shadows under her eyes, and fleet- 
ing dimples round those lips that seemed perpetually to invite 
kisses. 

Cosily nestling in the corner of the carriage, her head in its 
black silk hood tilted hack against the cushions, in the flicker- 
ing uncertain gleam, there was something almost babyish in her 
whole appearance; something babyish, too, in her attitude of 
perfect confidence and enjoyment. 

Denis O'Hara, with one arm extended above her head, his 
hand resting open on the panel, the other hand still clasping 
the handle of the door, gazed upon the woman who had placed 
herself so completely in his power, and felt smitten to the heart 
of him with a tenderness that was well-nigh pain. Hitherto 
his glib tongue had never faltered with a woman without his lips being ready 
to fill the pause with a suitable caress. But not so to-day. 

"What's come to me at all?" said he to himself, as, frightened by the 
very strength of his own passion, he could find no word at once ardent and 
respectful enough in which to speak it. And, indeed, "What had come to 
him?" was what Mistress Kitty was thinking about the same time. "And 
what may his arm be doing over my head?" she wondered. 
"How beautiful you are!" babbled the Irishman at last. 
Mistress Bellairs suddenly sat up with an angry start, It was as if she had 
been stung. 

"Heavens ! " cried she, thrusting her little forefingers into her ears. " Mr. 
O'Hara, if you say that again I shall jump out of the chay." 

Her eves Hashed ; she looked capable of fulfilling her threat upon the spot. 
" Me darling heart," said he, and had perforce to lay his hands upon her 
to keep her still. "Sure, what else can I say to you, with my eyes upon 
your angel face? " 

Apparently the lady's ears were not so completely stopped but that such 
words could penetrate. 

"'Tis monstrous/ 1 said she in hot indignation, " that 1 should go to all 
this trouble to escape from the bleating of that everlasting refrain, and have 
it buzzed at me" — she waxed incoherent under the sense of her injuries — 
" thus at the very outset ! " 

•' My dear love," said he, humbly, capturing the angry, gesticulating hand, 
"sure me heart's so full that it's just choking me." 
She felt him tremble beside her as he spoke. 



COPYRIGHT, 1900. 6Y EGERTON C»STLE. 



* Begun in December, /SQ(f. 



FRANK LELSIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

Now, the trembling lover was not of those that entered into Mistress Kitty's 
scheme of existence. She had, perhaps, reckoned, when planning her esca- 
pade, upon being made to tremble a little herself. She had certainly reckoned 
upon a journey this evening that should be among the most memorable in the 
annals of her impressions. O'Hara bashful! O'Hara tongue-tied ! O'Hara 
with cold fingers thai hardly dared to touch hers ! O'Hara, the gay rattler, 
with constrained lips ! 

This was an O'Hara whose existence she had never dreamed of, and for 
whose acquaintance, to say the truth, she had small relish. 

'•What has come to you !" she cried aloud, with another hurst of petu- 
lance. 

•• Faith," said he, "and I hardly know myself, Kitty darling. Oh, Kitty," 
said he, "'tis vastly well to laugh at love, and play at love ; but when love 
come- iii earnest it takes a man, as it were, by the throat, and it's no joke then." 

"■ So I see," >aid she, with some dryness. 

O'Hara clenched his hand ami drew a labored breath. 

•-;: :•: ^ ;•; %■ '!< ^ '■£ ^ 

Straining, slipping now and again, breaking into spurts of trot, to fall into 
enforced walking pare once more, the gallant team had dragged the chaise to 
the summit of the great rise at a speed quite unprecedented, yet compara- 
tively slow. 

Now the way lay down-hill. The coachman waved his whip. Bounding 
along the fair road the wheels hummed ; the night- wind fanned them through 
the half-opened window, set Mistress Kitty's laces flapping on her bosom, 
and a stray curl of .Mr. O'Hara's dancing on his pale forehead. 

The exhilaration of the rapid flight, the crack of the whip, the mad rhythm 
of the hoot'.-, the witchery of the night hour, the risks of the situation, the very 
madness of the whole enterprise, all combined to set the widow's gay blood 
delightfully astir, mounting to her light brain like sparkling wine. 

What ! were all the accessories of the play to be so perfect, and was the 
chief character to prove such a lamentable failure in bis part? What! was 
she. Kitty Bellairs, to he carried off by the most notorious rake in Hath, only 
to find him as awkward, as dumb, as embarrassed with the incomparable 
ition a- the veriest greenhorn? "It shall not, and it cannot he," said 
she to herself. Ami thereupon she changed her tactics. 

••Why." -aid she aloud, with the cooing note of her most melting mood, 
" I protesl one would think, sir. that you were afraid of me." 

•'Aye. Kitty." said he, simply, "and so I am." 

" < »h. lie ! ' ' she laughed. " And how have 1 alarmed you ? Think of me," 
said she. and leaned her Pace towards him with a smile of archest wit, " not 
as a stranger, but as a sisther, as a dear, dear cousin." 

Hi- eye flamed hack at her. Her merry mood was as incongruous to his 
sudden, storm-serious growth of passion as the gay lilt of a tambourine might 
be to a solemn chant. 

" I think of you," he said, and there was a deep thrill in his voice, "as my 

wife that is to be." 

And so saying he fell upon his knees in the narrow space, and tenderly 



THE BATH COMEDY 



159 



kissed ;i fold <>f her lace, as one, from the knowledge of his own fire, afraid of 
a nearer touch. 

The word "wife" had never a pleasing sound in the lovely widow's I ears. 

From neither the |>ast nor the future did it evoke for her an attractive picture. 

Coming from those lips, by which it was the very lasl name she wished to 

hear herself called, it aroused in her as pretty a lit of fury as ever she had 

indulged in. 

■'Now, indeed, is the murder out!" she cried. "Oh, you men are all 
alike. As lovers — all lire, capsicums, [ndian suns ! Bottles of Sillery always 
bursting! Torrents not to be stemmed .... But, lo I you let the lover 
once fancy himself the husband, let the vision of the coveted mistress hut 
merge into the prospect of the secured wife . . . Merciful heavens, what a 
change! For lire we have ice; for the red, biting capsicum, (he green, cool 
cucumber \ for joyous, foaming Sillery, the smallest ale; small ale — nay 
toast and water !" cried Mistress Kitty, lashing herself to finer frenzy. "And 
if the mere sense of your security thus transforms the lover in you, what a, 
pleasing prospect, indeed, lies before the wedded wife ! No, thank you, sir," 
said the lady, and 
pushed the petrified 
O'llara with an angry 
foot, ' ' I have had one 
wintry, toast-and-wa- 
ter husband, and that 
shall he enough for 
my lifetime. Thank 
God, it is not too late 
yet !" she fumed. "I 
am not yet, sir, Mis- 
tress O'llara." 

And in the very 
midst of her indig- 
nation : "This will," 
she thought, " sim- 
plify the parting at 
Devizes." But no 
whit was her wrath 
thereby abated, that 
the fool should have 
spoiled her pretty 
ride. 

For a moment after 

the angry music of 

her voice had ceased 

to ring there was a 

breathless silence, 

' "is that the heart of a 

broken only by the cucumber?" 

straining progress of pravm b v n.M. i:,,t,,„, 




160 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

horses and chaise up the sides of another hill. Then O'Hara broke forth into a 
sort of roar of wounded tenderness, passion, and ire. Flinging himself back 
upon his seat, he seized her wrist in a grip, fierce, yet still gentle under its 
fierceness. 

" How daie ye !" cried the man, " how dare ye douht my love ! Sure, the 
llami - i't' hell are cold compared to me this minute. May my tongue wither 
in my mouth, may it be cut out of my jaws and never speak a word of sense 
again, may I he struck dead at your feet, Kitty, for the rest of my life, if it's 
not gospel truth ! Listen to my heart ! " he cried, with yet greater vehemence, 
pressing her captive hand against his breast, "isn't it Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, . . . 
that it"> saying? Sure, it's nothing but a hell, and your name is the clapper 
in it ! . . . And you to he railing at me because it's so much I have to say 
that never a word can I bring out! Oh," pursued Mr. O'Hara, waxing 
louder and more voluble still, "sure, what could I say, with my heart in my 
mouth stopping the way? Look at it, you cruel woman ! isn't it all yours, 
and aren't you sticking pins into it for sheer devilment this minute? God 
forgive me. that I should say such a thing of an angel! Look at it, now, 
Kitty ! Is that the heart of a cucumber? ... If you had said a love-apple 
itself. . . . Och, indeed, it's the real cucumber I am, and it's toast and water 
that's running through my veins like fire ! . . . Laugh, madam, laugh, it's 
a grand joke entirely ! Make a pin-cushion of the cucumber ! See, now, is 
that small ale that bursts from the wounds? Upon my soul," he cried, 
arrived at the height of his tempest, "I have a mind to show you the 
color of it ! " 

He reached violently toward the back seat for his sword as he spoke, and 
Mistress Bellairs, suddenly arrested in her delighted paroxysm, was sufficiently 
convinced of the strength of his feelings to stop him with clinging hands and 
clamoring little notes of terror. 

■■ ( )' Ilara ! madman ! — for God's sake, Denis !" 

""Ah!'' cried lie. "It's not hot enough I was for ye. It's the cold 
husband you're afraid of. Ah, Kitty, you've stirred the sleeping dog, you 
mustn't complain now if you can't put out the fire." 

So saying, he turned and clasped her in an embrace that left her scarcely 
breath to scream, had she so wished, and had indeed the kisses which 
he rained upon her lips allowed her space in which to place a protest. 

Her lighl soul, her easy shallow nature, was carried as it were off its feet 
in tie- whirlwind of a passion the mere existence of which, with all her 
experience, she had never even guessed. To say the truth, so much as she 
had deemed him vastly too cold, so now she found him vastly too hot. She 
was a woman of niceties, an epicure in life and love, and nothing met with 
her favor hut the delicate happy mean. This was a revelation with a 
warning. 

'Mr. O'Hara," she gasped, at length released, fluttering like a ruffled 
dove, all in anger and fear, "such treatment! For a gentleman sir, you 
strangely forget yourself. " She laid her hand, on the window strap. "Not 
a word sir, or I will Instantly give the order to turn hack." 

"Oh," cried the unhappy lover, and tore at his hair with desperate fingers, 



THE HATH COMEDY. 



101 



filling the ambient air 
with flakes of powder 
which shone silvery in 
the moonlight. "Yo u 
drove me to it. Ah. 
don't, be frightened of 
me, my darling ; that 
hurts me the worst of all. 
I'm quiet now, Kitty." 

His laboring breath 
hissed between his words, 
and his satin coat creaked 
under each quivering 
muscle. 

" I'm as quiet as a 
land),' 1 said he ; " sure a 
baby might put its head 
in my jaws — the devil's 
gone out of me, Kitty." 

•• I'm glad to hear it, 
sir," said she, unappease 
She sat. swelling with ruffled 
plumes, looking out of the 
window, and biting her lips. 

" A moon, too," she thought, 
and the tears almost started to her 
eyes, for the vexation of the wasted 
opportunity and the complete fail- 
ure of n scene so excellently staged. 
" How wise, oh, how wise I was, 
to have secured my exit at Devizes!" 




HARK ! HARK !' CRIED SIR JASPER, ' DYE HEAR?' " 
Drawn by 11. 8f. Eaton. 



1 frightened her," thought O'Hara; and in the manly heart of him 
he lamented his innate masculine brutality and formed the most delicate 
chivalrous plans for the right cherishing in the future of the dear lady who 
had confided herself to him. 



SCENE XXI. 

Ix the white moonlight Sir Jasper Standish paced up and down the cobble- 
stoned yard with as monotonous a restlessness as if he had been hired this 
night to act the living sign at the Bear Inn. Devizes. 

Each time he passed the low open window of the inn parlor, in which sat 
Mr. Stafford by the dim yellow light of three long-tongued tallow candles, the 
baronet would pause a moment to exchange from without a few dismal words 
with his friend. The latter, puffing at a long clay pipe, endeavored in the 
intervals to while away the heavy minutes in the perusal of some tome 
out of mine host's library— a unique collection and celebrated on the Bath 
Road. 



162 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

'Tom Stafford," said Sir Jasper, for the twentieth time, " how goes the 
hour?" 

" P d slowly, friend,'' said Stafford, consulting with a yawn the most 

exact of three watches at Ins fob. " To be precise, 'tis two minutes and one- 
third since I told you that it wanted a quarter of midnight." 

Sir Jasper fell once more to Ins ursine perambulation, and Stafford, yawn- 
ing again, flicked over a page. He had not reached the bottom of it, however, 
before Sir Jasper's form returned between him and the moonlight, 

"What," said the injured husband, ''what if they should have taken 
another road ?" 

•Then." cried Stafford, closing his book with a snap between both his 
palms, tossing it on to the table and stretching himself desperately, "I shall 
only have to fight you myself, for this most insufferably dull evening that 
you have made me spend, when I was due at more than one rendezvous, and 
had promised pretty Bellairs the first minuet." 

"It shall be pistols," said Sir Jasper, following his own thoughts with a 
sort of gloomy lust. " Pistols, Tom. For either he or I shall breathe our 
last to-night." 

" Pistols with all my heart," said Stafford, stopping his pipe with his little 
finger. " Only do, like a good fellow, make up your mind — just for the sake 
of variety. I think the last time we considered the matter, we had decided 
for this" — describing a neat thrust at Sir Jasper's waistcoat through the 
window with the long stem of his churchwarden. 

"There's more blood about it, Jasper," he suggested critically. 

"True," murmured the baronet, again all indecision. "But pistols at 
five paces " 

" Well — yes, there's a charm about five paces, I admit," returned the 
s< (Mini with some weariness, dropping back again into his chair. "And we 
can reload, you know." 

"If I fall," said Jasper, with the emotion which generally overtakes a man 
who contemplates a tragic contingency to himself, " be gentle with her. She 
has sinned, but she was very dear to me." 

"She'll make a deuced elegant widow," said Stafford, musingly, after a 
little pause, during which he had conjured up Lady Standish's especial 
points with the judgment of a true connoisseur. 

•• You must conduct her hack to her home," gulped Sir Jasper, a minute 
later, -lowly thrusting in his head again. "Alack, would that I had never 
fetched her thence. . . Had you but seen her, when I wooed and won her, 
Tom ! A country flower, all innocence, a wild rose. . . . And now, deceit- 
ful, double-faced!" 

" 'Tis the way of the wild rose," said Stafford, philosophically. "Let you 
hut transplant it from the native hedgerow, and before next season it grows 
double." 

Here the speaker, who was always ready with a generous appreciation of 
his own conceits, threw his head hack and laughed consumedly, while Sir 
Jasper uttered some sound- b< tween a growl and a groan. 

The volatile second in waiting wiped his eyes. 



THE BATH COMEDY. 1G3 

"Go to, man !" cried he, turning with Budden irascibility upon his friend, 
"for pity sake take that lugubrious countenance of thine ou1 of my sight. 
What the devil 1 ever saw in thee, Jasper, t< ike a friend of, passes my com- 
prehension : for, of all things, I love a fellow with a spark of wit. And thou, 

lad, lackest the saving grace of humor so wofully, that, in truth. 1 fear- 
well— thou art in a parlous state: I fear damnation waits thee, for 'tis 
incurable. What ! in God's name cannot a man lose a throw in the game of 
happiness and vet laugh? Cannot a husbandman detect a poacher on his 
land and not laugh as he sets the gin ? Why," cried Mr. Stafford, warming 
to his thesis, and clambering lightly out of the window to seat himself on tin- 
outer sill, "strike me ugly ! shall not a gentleman he ever ready to meet his 
late with a smile? I vow I've never yet seen Death's head grin at me hut 
I've given him the grin hack — split me !" 

"Hark— hark !" cried Sir Jasper, pricking his strained ear, "d'ye hear?" 

" Pooh !" said Mr. Stafford, "only tne wind in the tree." 

"Nay," cried Sir Jasper ; "hush man, listen." 

An unmistakable rumbling grew upon the still night air — a confused 
medley of sounds which gradually unravelled themselves upon their listening 
ears. It was the rhythmical striking of many hoofs, the roll of wheels, the 
crack of a merciless whip. 

•Faith and faith," cried Stafford, pleasantly exhilarated, "I believe 
you're right, Jasper ; here they come !" 

The moonlight swam blood-red before Sir Jasper's flaming eye. 

•■ Pistols or swords?" queried he again of himself, and grasped his hilt as 
the nearest relief, pending the decisive moment. 

Out slouched a couple of sleepy 'ostlers, as Master Lawrence, mine host, 
rang the stable bell. 

Betty, the maid, threw a couple of logs on the fire while the dame in the 
bar, waking from her snooze, demanded the kettle, and selected some lemons, 
and ordered candlesticks and dips with reckless prodigality. 

;•: :i: ^ ^ # : : : * 

Mistress Kitty, peering out of the carriage window, her shoulder still 
turned upon the unhappy and unforgiven swain, hailed the twinkling lights 
of the Bear Inn with lively eyes. 

While the chaise described an irreproachable curve round the yard, her 
quick glance had embraced every element of the scene. Sir Jasper's bulky 
figure, with folded arms, was leaning against the post of the inn door, await- 
ing her approach — retribution personified — capriciously illumined by the 
orange rays of the landlord's lantern. Out in the moonlight, shining in his 
pearl gray satin and powdered head, all silver from crest to shoe-buckle, like 
the prince of fairy lore, sat Stafford on his windowdedge, as gallant a picture 
to a woman's eye, the widow had time to think, as one could wish to see on 
such a night. 

" Oh," she thought, " how we are going to enjoy ourselves at last !' 

And being too true an artist to consider her mere personal convenience 
upon a question of effect, she resolved to defer the crisis to the ripe moment, 
no matter at what cost. Accordingly, even as O'Hara cried out, in tones of 



164 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

surprise and disgust: "Thunder and turf! my darling, it' there isn't now 
that blethering ox, Sir Jasper !" Mistress Kitty instantly covered her face 
with her lace, and swooned away on the Irishman's breast. 

Sir Jasper charged the coach door. 

"Blethering ox!" he bellowed. "I'll teach you, sir, what I am! I'll 
teach that woman— I'll, I'll " 

Here Stafford sprang lightly to the rescue. 

"For Heaven's sake," said he, " think of our names as gentlemen ; let it 
be swords or pistols, Jasper, or swords and pistols, if you like, but not fisty- 
cuffs and collaring. Be quiet, Jasper ! And you sir," said lie to O'Hara, as 
sternly as he could for the tripping of his laughter, "having done your best 
to add that to a gentleman's head which shall make his hats sit awry for the 
remainder of his days, do you think it generous to give the condition so pre- 
cise a name ?" 

"Oh, hush !" cried O'Hara, in too deep distress to pay attention either to 
abuse or banter. "Give me room, gentlemen, for God's sake! Don't you 
see the lady has fainted?" 

With infinite precaution and tenderness he emerged from the chay with his 
burden, elbowing from his path on one side the curious and officious landlord, 
on the other the struggling husband. 

" Oh, what have I done at all ! " cried the distracted lover, as the inertness 
of the weight in his arms began to fill him with apprehension for his dear. 
" Sure, alanna, there's nothing to be afraid of ! Sure, am I not here? Och, 
i ne darling, if " 

But here Sir Jasper escaped from his friend's control. " I'll not stand it ! " 
cried he. ' 'Tis more than flesh and blood can endure. Give her up to me, 
sir. How dare you hold her?" He fell upon O'Hara in the rear and seized 
him, throttling, around the neck. 

'■ I'll dare you in a minute, ye mad divil !" yelled O'Hara, in a fury no 
whit less violent than that of his assailant. Thus cried he, and choked. 

In the scuffle they had reached the parlor. 

"Oh, Jasper, Jasper, in the name of decency !" protested Stafford, vainly 
endeavoring to pluck the baronet from off the Irishman's back. "And you. 
Denis, lad, I entreat of you cease to provoke him. Zooks, my boy, remember 
he has some prior claim — what shall I say? — some little vested interest " 

"I'll stuff him with his own red hair !" asseverated Sir Jasper, foaming 
at the mouth as, under a savage push from O'Hara's elbow, befell back, 
staggering, into Stafford's power. 

"Prior claims — vested interest is it! Some of you will have to swallow 
those words before I'll begot to swallow anything here," swore Denis O'Hara, 
almosl gaily, in the exaltation of his ( Jeltic rage. " Sine, 'tis mad, J know ye 
ire, lepping mad, Sir Jasper; but oughl you not to be ashamed of yourself 
before the lady ? She's quivering with the fright. . . . Lie here, my angel," 
-.lid be. vibrating from the loudesl note of defiance to the tenderest cooing. 
" Li'' here ; there's not a ha'porth to frighten ye, were there fifty such two- 
penny old crazy weather-cocks crowing at you!" 
So saying, he deposited his burden tenderly in the leather-winged 



THE HATH COMEDY. L6fi 

arm-chair by the fireplace, and turned with a buoyant step towards Sir 
Jasper. 

"Come out," said he, "come out, sir ! Sure, leave him alone, Tom ; 'ti.-^ 
the only way to quiet him at all. Sure, after our little game the other night, 
wasn't he that dove-like, poor fellow, ;i child might have milked him?" 

The quivering form in the chair here emitted a scale of hysterical little 
notes thai seemed wrung from her by the most irrepressible emotion. And : 

••oh, oh !" exclaimed Mi'. Stafford, unable, in the midst of his laughter, to 
retain any further grip upon his friend. 

"My darling," once more began the solicitous O'Hara, turning his head 
round towards the arm-chair, hut 

"Judas ! " hissed Sir Jasper, and furiously interposed his hulk between the 
Irishman and his intention. 

"Faith," cried Stafford, "can't you cover that head of yours somehow, 
O'Hara? 1 vow the very sight of it is still the red rag to the bull. . . . The 
hull, aha!" 

"Ha! ha! ha!" broke, this time uncontrolled, the merriment from the 
chair. 

The three men were struck into silence and immobility. 

Then, on tip-toe, Mr. Stafford approached and peeped around the wing of 
the arm-chair. He looked, and seemed hlasted with astonishment ; looked 
again, and made the rafters ring with his sonorous laugh, till the apprehensive 
landlord in the passage and the trembling dame in the bar were comforted 
and reassured by the genial sound. 

The high feminine trill of Mistress Kitty's musical mirth rang in sweetly 
with his. 

'•Oh, Kitty Bellairs, Kitty Bellairs ! " gasped Mr. Stafford, shook his finger 
at her, felt blindly for a support, and rolled up against Sir Jasper. 

The baronet straightway fell into an opportunely adjacent chair and there 
remained — his legs extended with compass stiffness, his eyes starting with 
truly bovine bewilderment — staring at the rosy visage, the plump little figure 
that now emerged from the ingle-nook. 

"Oh, clear, oh, dear ! " faintly murmured Stafford, and with a fresh breath 
he was off again. "Aha, ha, ha ! for an ox, my Jasper, thou hast started on 
a lovely wild goose chase — as friend O'Hara might say." "While : 

" Mercy on us 1 " rippled the lady. " I protest, 'tis the drollest scene. Oh, 
Sir Jasper, Sir Jasper, see what jealousy may bring a man to ! " 

"Musha, it's neither head nor tail I can make of the game," said O'Hara, 
" hut sure it's like an angel choir to hear you laugh again, me darling." 

The guileless gentleman approached his mistress as he spoke, and prepared 
to encircle her waist. But with a sudden sharpness she whisked herself from 
his touch. 

" Pray, sir," she said, " remember how we stand to each other ! If I laugh 
' tis with relief to know myself safe. ' ' 

"Safe?" he echoed with sudden awful misgiving. 

"Aye," said she, and spoke more tartly for the remorseful smiting of her 
own heart, as she marked the change in his face. " You would seem to forget, 



166 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

sir, thai you have carried me off by violence — treacherously seized me with 
your hired ruffians." Her voice grew ever shriller, as certain rumors which 
her expectant cars had already caught approaching, now grew quite unmis- 
takable without, and hasty steps resounded in the passage. " Oh, Mr. O'Hara, 
you have cruelly used me!" cried the lady. "Oh, Sir Jasper, oh, Mr. 
Stafford, from what a fate has your most unexpected presence here to-night 
thus opportunely saved me ! " 

At this point she looked up and gave a scream of most intense astonish- 
ment, for there, in the doorway, stood my Lord Verney ; and over his shoulder 
peered the white face of Captain Spicer, all puckered up with curiosity. 



SCENE XXII. 

O'Hara drew himself up. He had grown all at once exceedingly still. 

Mr. Stafford, gradually recovering from his paroxysms, had hegun to bestow 
-line intelligent interest upon the scene. There was a mist of doubt in his 
eyes as he gazed from the victimized, but very lively, lady to her crestfallen 
"violent abductor," and then to the gloomy countenance of the new-comer 
on the threshold. There seemed to be, it struck him, a prodigious delibera- 
tion in Mistress Kitty's cry and start of surprise. 

"What is my pretty Bellairs up to uoav? Well, poor Irish Denis, with all 
Ins wits, is no match for her anyhow, and, faith, she knows it," thought he. 
Aloud he .-aid, with great placidity: " Fie, fie, this is shocking to hear!" 
and sat. the good-humored Chorus to the Comedy, on the edge of the table, 
waiting for the development of the next scene. 

Sir Jasper, wiping a beaded brow and still staring, as if by the sheer fixing 
of his bloodshot eye he could turn these disappointing puppets into the proper 
objects of his vengeance, was quite unable to follow any current but the muddy 
whirl of his own thoughts. 

Lord Verney alone it was. therefore, who rose at all to Mistress Kitty's 
situation. 

"Are you the scoundrel, then," said he, marching upon O'Hara, "who 
dared to lay hands upon an unprotected lady in the very streets of Bath?" 

"Monstrous!" remarked Captain Spicer behind him. Then jogging his 
patron's elbow, "'Twas well spoke, Verney, man. At him again; there's 
blood in this." 

Mr. O'Hara looked steadily at Lord Verney, glancing contemptuously at 
Captain Spicer. and then with long, full searching at the beguiling widow. 

Shethoughl to scent, danger to herself in the air, and, womanlike, she seized 
unscrupulously upon the sharpest weapon in her armory. 

■■ Perhaps," she said, with an angry, scornful laugh, "Mr. O'Hara will now 
deny thai lie an. I his servants attacked my chairmen in the dark, threw me, 
screaming with terror, into his carriage? and that his intention was avowedly 
to wed me by force in London to-morrow?" 

[To l), concluded nut month.) 




T should not be forgotten,"' said the Times 
of India, during the late troubles on the 
northwest border, "that the real frontier 
of the Indian Empire is nol the scene of the re- 
cent conflicts with the Afridi and Waziri tribes, 
but that it stretches virtually from the mouth of 
the Shat-el-Arab, at the head of the Persian Gulf, along the southern border of 
Afghanistan and Thibet to Burmah and Yunnan." Its outpost cities are not 
Bombay and Calcutta, but Bangkok and Bagdad. The traveler through Asiatic 
Turkey comes at once upon its agents and the flag of the Indian navy when 
he crosses the broad, sun-baked plain about the City of the Caliphs. And in 
the Bagdad bazaars Indian rupees are almost as good as Turkish mejidies 
and English dress is too common to attract notice. Indeed, so far as real 




SHOPS IN LAHORE. 



L68 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



powei is concerned, from Bagdad, down the Tigris and the Shat, to the bor- 
der.- of the Sultan's land, the Union Jack represents more than the Crescent. 
The Turk knows tins and limits to two the number of river steamers which 
Stephen Lynch & Co. are allowed to keep in commission between Bagdad and 
Busra. Also he loathes the sight of a British gunboat on the ancient streams. 
A few gunboats of bis own he has there, but they are not dangerous. The 
faithful servants of the Sultan have sold the boilers out of some of them for 
pocket-money, and when a British gunboat passing recently saluted another, 
a boat put out from it to borrow powder with which to return the salute. 

Bagdad is one of the last of the unspoiled great cities of the East, The 
Bazaar of Constantinople has been defiled by Western innovations, and Euro- 
pean fashions are stealing into the shops of Tabriz. Bagdad is changing, 
too, but its colors and ways are rich still with suggestions of the days of the 
Caliphs and the luxurious era of Islam. The old part of the Customs House 
is the palace of the Caliphate, hoary with the marks of more than eight cen- 
turies, and mosque and minaret recall great names of great days which will 
never come again. In the palace court now are iron from Birmingham and 
cotton from Manchester, matches from Sweden and cheaper and more sul- 
phurous ones from Japan, chinaware from China and Russia, spirits and 
sugar from Marseilles, with wheat for shipment to London and wool and 
hides for America. Where the Caliph's favorites once sold kingdoms, inspec- 
tor- now take their petty bribes. It is a curious bedlam. Caravans come in 
from Persia, Arabia and Mesopotamia. The laden camels, horses and don- 
keys surge out east, north, west and south. A hamal, or porter, pushes by 
carrying on bis back a three hundred and fifty pound bale of cotton. And 

the Bagdad natives are distinguishable 
from the rest by the Bagdad button, a 
scar about the size of a date, often on the 
end of the nose, always on the face, the 
mark of an ugly scab which sooner or 
later comes to disfigure almost every 
resident of Bagdad. Jews, of whom 
there are forty thousand, one-third of 
the population of the city, Armenians, 
many of whose women have been mar- 
ried to Europeans, Arabs from the desert, 
Turks, soldiers and fat civilians, some 
dark, some blonde as the janizaries, cha- 
vadars with their caravans, Persian trad- 
ers <>f all kinds, pass to and fro under 
the covered streets between the bazaar 
-hops displaying all the produce of the 
East. 

At Bagdad the weary traveler, worn 
by his slow and arduous horseback 
journey over mountain and plain, gets 
passage on one of the comfortable little 




r *' 



A MADRAS] WOMAN. 



AT THE ENDS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. 



169 



| Sfeg I 



river boats on the 

Tigris. It is a mud- 
dy, t<>rtu<»us stream, 

so tortuous that the 

s t ea m e r must be 

slowly backed and 

twisted around many 

turns. One vicious 

bend the boatmen 

,-all the Devil's El- 
bow. T h e devout 

Moslems on board, 

who must face al- 

ways toward Mecca 

when they pray. 

often begin piously, 

only to conclude with 

their faces toward the 

Persian hills, having 

meantime prayed to- 
ward the North Star 

and the Southern 

Cross. The great 
plains stretch to the 
west inimitably, and 

to the east far to the 

snow-topped mount- 
ains of Pushti Kuh. 
These plains were a hindu temple <; ATE way. 

once the granary of the world. Now they are sere and hare, save for the 
Bedouin tribes which raise here and there a scanty crop and drive their 
flocks where they will. The Turk imposes his taxation like a madman. 
Prosperity is visited with exorbitant impost as judgment. Each water skin, 
each goat or bull, each fruit tree, each crop, is taxed. It is better for a 
man to cut clown his fruit trees and reduce his crops to avoid the rapacity of 
the government loot. In consequence, the great, fertile plains, needing only 
water to make them rich as a garden, lie barren and unfilled. Here and 
there along the Tigris hank stretches an Arab village, transient and frail, 
of reeds and skins, while the people raise a poor harvest by rude irrigation. 
Sometimes the water is lifted from the river to the ditches in the low-lying 
plain by skin buckets drawn up by oxen, sometimes by two men standing 
one on either side of the irrigation trench, each holding two ropes attached 
to a shallow wicker basket with which they scoop and throw the water up 
from the river into the trench. The village children, naked even in January, 
run along the bank to scramble for oranges or nuts thrown them. 

The Moslem is a great traveler, and the pilgrims to Kerbela, the great shrine 
of the Shiali sect, make their way thither by way of the' Tigris from India 

1M 




170 



/• /;. ! NK I. ESLIE ' S POPl LA R MOM HI, Y. 



and the ports of the Persian (lull'. Going down the river, our boat was 
freighted with the devout followers of the Prophet returning home as penni- 
less as pious. The dick passage is all they can afford. At Bagdad they had 
laid in supplies and each party had pre-empted its own space. Small harems 
were constructed with curtains and rugs. Chests and bundles were piled 
about, lbrc and there a superb rug was laid down and constituted its own- 
er'- homestead claim. Joints of meat were hung on the rail and ehickens 
were carried alive in coops. At meal time the odors of rancid butter and 
curry and garlic surpassed "the scents of Araby." 

The sailors on the Tigris boats are mainly Chaldeans from Mosul, across 
the Tigris river from the site of ancient Nineveh. Great powerful fellows 
they are. with trousers like a brace of giant meal sacks, playful as children, 
but with the appetites of oxen. They took big fish down into the boiler-room, 
and putting them on a shovel cooked them in the furnace and sat down to 
devour them all. The shallow Tigris is full of fish and the gulls follow the 
ship along the banks. The motion of the paddle wheels draws the water 
away from the banks for a moment behind the boat, and the birds swoop 
down on the fish suddenly left wriggling on the slime. The Turks on board 
devise some strange mixtures of dress. The ticket collector wore a superb 
Arab headdress, but degraded it with an old frock coat and elastic topped 
shoes. 

There was an age of glory on these brown river banks once. Yonder is the 
grave of Mohammed's camel driver, and there the tomb of his barber, to 
which the barbers of Bagdad make annual pilgrimage. Here is the blue- 




A BATHING i. HAT A I LiKNAKKS. 



AT THE ENDS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. 



17! 




TUE TAJ MAHAL, AGRA. 

domed sepulchre of Ezra, as the Jews maintain, and from far and near to the 
tomb of the great scribe the scattered children of Israel come, to think of the 
days long ago when by the waters of Babylon they hung their harps on the 
willows and had no heart to sing the Lord's songs in a strange land. Daniel's 
tomb is at Susa, and Ezekiel rests to the west at Nejef. Complete still after 
all its centuries, though built without a keystone, there on the east is the 
arch of Ctesiphon, and to the west stretch the mounds of Seleucia — tbe twin 
cities which were Median in the days when Khaled's armies marched out of 
Arabia and looked in savage amazement on the walls and the jeweled tapes- 
tries of the Persian court of Yezdegerd. And here flowing down from the far 
northwest past Ur of the Chaldees, where Abraham fed his flocks, come the 
blue waters of the Euphrates to join the tawny Tigris. Among the graceful 
palm trees lies the village of Gurnah. This was Eden, the Arabs say, which 

"stretched her line 
From Arnon eastward to the royal towers 
Of great Seleuci i built by Grecian kings." 

And is it of this brown Tigris or of yonder clear Euphrates that Milton sings 

when he adds, 

" Southward through Eden went a river large"? 

But what does all this mean to the loud-voiced, brown-faced Arabs? They 
are only waiting for the sunset hour to break the fast of these days of Rama- 
zan. Here at Amarah one may see them waiting. Hundreds of them have 
come down to look at the boat and wander over it. in theorv to visit "a 



172 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 




A LAUNDRY AT 



SEWER S Mol'TH, AM) A GANGES BOAT, AT BENARES. 



friend," to steal what they can in fact. But as the sunset gun sounds, the 
throng melts away ; the fasting soldiers hurry from the nearby barracks to 
the kitchen each with his tin pan for his mess, and the whole population of 
Amarah, yes, of the Moslem world, begins a night of gluttony and carousal. 
The month of Ramazan is a great institution. No food and as much indo- 
lence and assiduous reading of the Koran as possible during the day, and 
gorging and gluttony during the night. It is the month of fast and piety. 

The broad stream formed by the junction of the Tigris and the Euphrates 
is called the Shat-el-Arab. Well down towards its mouth is the old city of 
Busra built by the Caliph Omar in the early days of Mohammedanism. It 
lies along a little creek emptying into the Shat and guarded at its mouth by 
the insatiate Customs House. The boats of the British India Steamship Com- 
pany, which has one of the largesl fleets in the world, come up to Busra from 
Bombay, and in a long bellem, as the native boats are called, the traveler 
elude- the customs brigand who has hoarded the Tigris boat, and is moved to 
a comfortable ocean-going steamer, on which he is likely to he the only Euro- 
pean passenger and where officers, used to the queer flotsam and jetsam of 
the East, greet him offishly at first, but warm up soon to the idea of a little 
civilized companionship. 

From Busra to India the boats touch at ports on both sides of the Persian 
Gulf: Mohammerah, Bohrein- -where the pearl fisheries are, Bushire, Bunder 
Abbas -which the Russians desire as a port and outlet on Southern waters, 



AT THE ENDS OF THE BRI'JISH EMPIRE. 



173 



denied them as yet, Linga, Jask — where the British [ndia telegraph line 
leaves Persia after its long overland journey from Tabriz and the Caucasus, 
and goes undersea to India; and Muscat and, perhaps, Gwadar, in Afghanistan. 

The Persian navy, one bottom, lies at Bushire. Sometimes it goes to Bun- 
der Abbas. It was built in Germany. Two boats were ordered, but the Per- 
sians never paid for the first, and the story is that the German Government, 
with singular disinterestedness, made a present of that portion for which the 
Shah failed to pay. The navy has caused much trouble. The Admiral is 
usuallv a European out of a job elsewhere. He was leaving when we were 
in Bushire. Thecrew objected to the hard work of keeping the navy in order, 
and he was weary. Being an Admiral in Persia must be very tiresome. The 
Arab and Persian boats in the ports are as manifold as the colors of the boat- 
men's dress. At -Task the boats are simply green withe- wattled together. 
The water flows in and out at will, and the naked boatman sits on a box 
in the middle of his boat rowing with oars made of pieces of board tied on 
the ends of two poles. It is a dainty boat for an open sea. 

The sailors on the Gulf ships wear silver chains on their arms. The Hindu 
sailor likes the sense of security he gains from the knowledge that he has 
with him always in his silver chain, whatever may befall him, wealth enough 
to carry him to his own land. The Oriental may roam far and wide, but he, 
too, has a spot he calls home, and a place where his affections have rooted 
themselves in the soil, and though his poverty frees him from the anchorage 




ENTRANCE TO GREAT I'M. el) 



17! 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY 



of vested interest, lie hears always in his ears the temple bells or the muez- 
zin's call of his childhood days, and he turns back at last to die where he is 
known, and his own will deal faithfully with him in death. 

In the evening the sun goes down behind the Arabian desert and its light 
falls soft across the sea. To the north are the rocks of Ormuzd, whose name 
stands synonymous for fabled wealth. An old Portuguese fort has crumbled 
to ruin at one end, and at the other, desolate and bleak, an ancient lighthouse 
stands. As the sun sinks, the phosphoresence glows green upon the sea. 
From the bow of the boat it runs off in billows of liquid emerald. The revo- 
lutions of the screw, turning forty-five times a minute, stand out like the 
coils of a great sea-serpent, and the log line leaves behind a track like a 
strand of pearls. Jelly fish and strange currents make lanes and meadows 
of weird light, and the flying fish shoot off like schools of rockets over the 
still waters. A wondrous water is this whispering Persian sea between Iran 
and Araby. 

Quainter and more weird than any of these Gulf cities, however, is Muscat, 
on the edge of the Arabian Sea. The brown, treeless mountain wall rises 
behind and on either side stands a rocky hill crowned by a fort. The queer 
old city lies between. We found the Sultan's horses picketed on the street 

under the latticed 
Moorish windows of 
his dilapidated pal- 
ace, and his long- 
bearded vizier, to 
whom we were in- 
troduced on the 
street, asked in pro- 
per Oriental fashion 
as to our age and in- 
come. It is more 
than two hundred 
and fifty years since 
the Arabs sent their 
armies into the city 
jiacked in dates one 
Sunday while the 
Portuguese were at 
church and made 
themselves masters. 
It has been an Arab 
city ever since, and 
w^as a little Arab 
E m p i r e, though 
now England has 
eased the Sultan of 
h i s possession in 
Zanzibar, and with 




I HE U IINK 1:1 Mill \. 



AT THE ENDS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE 



17.". 




SIIWE DAGON PAGODA, RANGOON. 

France exercises a constraining influence which the Sultan grins at and bears 
in his little dominion of Oman. The western fort was built by the Portuguese 
in 1588. On the top of the high structure, built tier on tier on the hill, is an 
old Catholic chapel, with a well just before it which held water for the garri- 
son for three years. The guns are ancient and innocent, and stone cannon- 
balls lie around. The present garrison is a small crowd of gaily armed gen- 
tlemen, with sufficient swarthy villainy on their faces, but of dubious mili- 
tary efficiency. Occasionally the two forts fall into the hands of rival factions 
and shoot stone balls at one another across the town. The standard coin of 
Muscat is the Maria Theresa silver dollar. The present Sultan is a young 
man who fights with his half-brothers in the interior. They are full Arabs, 
while lie is the son of the late Sultan and a negro woman. He conducts him- 
self as a good young man while the Consuls are observing, and when they 
doze he is believed to twirl his thumbs and watch the slaves come up from 
Africa for sale on the date plantations along the coast valleys. 1 saw in Mus- 
cat, in the care of the Mission of the Dutch Reformed Church, eighteen little 
children whom the British consul had captured and freed, who bad been 
stolen from the four quarters of Africa and who bore on their childish cheeks 
the branded scar of the slaver's iron. 

Arabia is the past undisturbed. India is a medley of memories and expec- 
tations, of discords. The railroad and the pith and the hard mechanical 
matter-of-factness of the West side by side with the silent shadow in a loin 



176 



/•V.M.YA' LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



cloth, the jangling silver anklets below a chuddra, the creaking bullock cart 
and the dreaming mystery. On one side India is like "The Deserted Bun- 
galow" of which Aliph Cheein sings in "The Lays of Ind " : 

"There stands on the isle of Seringapatam 
By the Cauvery eddying fast, 
A bungalow lonely 

And tenanted only 
By memories of the past. 
It has stood, as though under a curse or spell, 
Untouched since the year that Tippoe fell. 

"The garden about it is tangled and wild, 
Sad trees sigh close to its eaves, 
And the dark lithe shapes 
Of chattering apes 
Swing in and out of the leaves ; 
And when night's dank vapors rise gray and foul, 
The silence is rent by the shrill screech owl. 

"The windows are shuttered, the doors are shut, 
And the color and stain of decay 
Is on plaster and beam, 
And the stone steps seem 
To be ooze-corroding away ; 
And the air all around is as tinged with the breath 
of the felt, though invisible, presence of Death." 

This is the old India, the India of the people, superstitious, unmoving, 
women waiting wearily for the dim hope of some future transmigration, fakirs 

holding up arms until they die of 
atrophy or distorting themselves out of 
human similitude, or sitting like beasts 
among their offal, priests and politi- 
cians talking, talking, talking, with no 
sense of imperative morality or the 
incompatibility of contradictories, and 
gibbering over the whole universe of 
seen and unseen, with back of it all 
the sad earnestness of a great people 
and the patience and suffering of a 
race which, as the "Hindu" says, has 
for ages known only the place of the 
slave, and has found its strength in a 
quietness and a confidence which are 
the sisters of death. 

This old undisturbed India is fascin- 
ating to study, though it makes the 
heart sick. Its poverty is inconceiv- 
able to us profligates of the West. The 
entire household furniture of the vil- 
■ HE sami u= theebaw's QUEEN." lager is not worth two dollars and his 




AT THE ENDS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE 



177 



wardrobe could be du- 
plicated for fifty cents. 
More than one hundred 
millions of its people 
never have enough to 
eat. In times of plenty, 
multitudes live off ani- 
mals which have died, 
and in famine they only 
drink the last dregs of a 
life-long cup of suffering 
and pain. During the 
last great famine in the 
Northwest Provinces, 
the government h a d 
gathered thousand's at 
Agra for employment on 
the relief works. The 
wages were two or three 
cents a day, enough to 
keep body and soul to- 
gether. To and fro the 
weakened women ami 
children moved, bearing 
their baskets of earth on 
their heads, under the 
shadow of the Taj Ma- 
hal, whose snowy dome 
and minarets looked 
down coldly on Hindu 
and Moslem alike — type 
and remnant of the haughty tyrants who had ruled and ruined and passed 
away, while a new race of rulers had come to the land, 

"Raising the hearts of its sons from the dust, 
Wielding their sway as a sacred trust, 
Forswearing the past with its greed and lust, 
Holding fair scales to the white and black, 
Sowing their love in the famine's track." 

Whoever would see the old India can, of course, see it anywhere, for the 
new India lies very thin over it. But to Benares he must surely go. There, 
by the sluggish Ganges, holy and calm, he will breathe air heavy with the 
crushed flowers of the offerings, move amid the stare of idols and the crowds 
of worshipers from every quarter of India, bowing to the phallic symbols and 
staring heedlessly at temple carvings so obscene as to have required exemp- 
tion by government from the operation of the law- against foul imagery and 
decoration, watch the multitudes bathe in the sacred stream and worship its 
green waters, look on the great pool of some deity's sweat in which other 




\ BUKMESE c.lia, OF RANGOON. 



178 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



devout souls bathe with milk and flowers and yellow powder for offerings, 
and on whose bank a priest is teaching a small boy to read the Shastras with 
stately bowings and gesticulations. Nearly naked priests lie by the roadside 
or wander past. Sacred cows roam through the temple courts. Monkeys 
swing down from the trees and grin at some stone idol which with leering 
face daubed with red paint grins back stolidly. From the river bank rises 
the smoke of the funeral pyre, and over a sewer's mouth the dhobies are at 
work, and their clothes, washed in the foul and holy stream, are spread on 
the banks to dry. There is a certain levity and irreligiousness about it all to 
a Western mind, but it is the religion of India in its holiest city. The odor 
of the jungle and the plain, and the color of a w r orld that is not ours, are here, 
where these people from every state of the great empire come to worship their 
three hundred million gods, the three hundred million gods of their fathers. 
And yet over this people as numerous as their gods, a foreign Queen rules 
with less than seventy thousand soldiers of her own race to support her sover- 
eignty. It is a popular sovereignty ? Lord George Hamilton, the Secretary 




SIKH CAVALRYMEN. 



AT TEE ENDS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. 



L79 




for India, says it is not. 
"I am afraid," he de- 
clared in Parliament. 
"that whatever we do 
our government will 
never be popular in In- 
dia." At this loyal 
Hindus and their people 
hold up their hands and 
protest their love and 
loyalty. But popular 
the British government 
is not and popular it 
never will be. It holds 
India not by the popu- 
larity of its rule, excel- 
lent and salutary as it 
is, and with many dis- elephant piling teak. 

liked and abhorred just in proportion as it is excellent and salutary, but by 
reason of the dissensions of India within— racial, national, linguistic, reli- 
gious—and by reason of that moral superiority and benefit of righteous service 
which constitute title by the will of God. 

" India is a very curious place," as the enlightened Paget, M.P., remarked 
to Orde. From Strickland's point of view, very few people know anything 
about it. The Mutiny taught a great many people who thought they knew 
that they were very ignorant. England thinks the handsome Sikh soldiers 
can he trusted anywhere, and one finds them policing the streets of Hong- 
kong, Shanghai and Singapore. Fine-looking fellows and trusty they are. 
So are many native regiments, Moslem and Hindu. And with one hundred 
and forty thousand such soldiers, stiffened by seventy thousand with white 
faces, India is equipped, Moslems constituting the garrisons on Hindu soil 
and Hindus holding the forts among Mohommedans. A man is trusted best 
away from his own people and among his foes. 

It was the Holi festival as we left Calcutta. It is an interesting festival for 
those who are interested by coarse suggestiveness and who like to see people 
smeared with red stain on the street or with red powder dropped from up- 
stairs windows. The white-clad students found it trying. Men and boys, 
armed with great syringes squirting a quart or so of crimson fluid, ruined the 
clothes of many a poor fellow owning but little. Bathing in the sacred river 
becomes doubly necessary at such sacred seasons. 

Across the Bay of Bengal from Calcutta lies the westernmost bound of the 
Indian Empire, and as far as the East is from the West are the stillness of 
spirit, the soft indolence of faith, the stupor of nature of Rangoon from the 
strident speech, the vigor of passion, the vivacity of bigotry of the Arab and 
the Turk. This is the impressionist's generalization, and it is reasonably 
just. The very roundness of the pagodas speaks of effeminacy and the soft, 
vaporous breeze woos to lethargy. "An' the sunshine an' the palm tree an' 



ISO 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



the tinkly temple bells" all sing low and soft, "Come, rest and sleep. Hush, 
and be still." 

From Mandalay, through jungle and forest the Irriwaddy glides down past 
Rangoon. 

"Do they call me rich in trade? 
Link' care I, but hear the shorn priest drone, 
And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid, 
Laugh 'neath my Shwe Dagon." 

Shwe Dagon is the great gilt-covered Pagoda of Rangoon. Under its shadow 
are some graves of British soldiers who fell when the hill was taken in 1857. 
Great open-mouthed figures guard the long ascending entrance. Beggars 
wait with their bowls arranged in rows. Candles for offerings are laid out 
for sale. They are made for this trade in Belgium and Great Britain. The 
West sells even idols to the East. Immense pagodas surround Shwe Dagon, 
and Hindus and Chinese have built their shrines under its shelter. Buddhas 
great and small, white and gold, wood and stone, sit cross-legged and solemn 
in their niches. Here in a corner the foot-prints of Buddha are shown, huge 
prints, four or five feet long. At Benares the priests show you Vishnu's tiny 
foot-prints, less than five inches in length. Buddha's feet are distinctly in 
another class. There is a warehouse of decrepit gods in one corner. Carpen- 
ters are freshening some of them. An air of tranquility and friendliness 
hangs oyer all, and the temple classes squat about their teachers or the for- 
tune-tellers with a spirit of listless content which makes the traveler wonder 




HINDI VENDERS, AT ACRA. 



AT THE ENDS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. 



LSI 




A BUSMAN FAMILY. 

whether there is any such terrible world of responsibility and effort and urgency 
as that of which he has been a part and to whose maelstrom be must return. 
And here in the courts of Sbwe Dagon we saw her. You may see her 

there any day. 

'"Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, 
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat— jes' the same as Theebaw'a Queen. 
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, 
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot," 

She looks very fresh now, this Burmah girl, but she will wither soon, and 
who knows what she may be when the great, swinging wheel of life in which 
she is caught revolves once again, and she wakes up maybe a brute, maybe 
vermin, maybe— the longing of her heart is for this ten thousand lives' dis- 
tant hope— a man! Perhaps, meanwhile, she will marry a Chinaman, hon- 
estly wifeless hitherto or with an expectant wife awaiting his returning to 
Quangtung. The Chinese are not unpopular husbands in the Straits or 
Burmah. They work. No beaver can surpass them. To the south, in the 
Straits Settlements proper, the Chinese made up 227,989 of the total popula- 
tion of 512,342 in 1896, and the preceding year 60,559 of them had immi- 
grated into Penang and Province Wellesley alone. 

In any of the great teak markets of Burmah one may see the hathis&i work : 

"Elephints a-pilin' teak 
In the sludgy, squdgy creek, 
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was "art' afraid to speak ! ' 



182 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

It is a vision of superb power combined with superb intelligence, a marvel of 
discipline and obedience. And it gives one an eerie feeling to see a great 
black fellow swing by down the main street of a town as orderly as any 
citizen. 

It took many years, the lives of innumerable brave men, patience and per- 
sistent will to bring all these people under orderly government and to estab- 
lish over them the institutions of a just rule. Whether the process pleased 
the dacoits in the jungle is of no consequence. Those who have not only 
may. they must, give what they have to those who have not. As there are 
compulsory quarantines and enforced benefices in any civilized land, so civil- 
ization cannot pass by and leave the degraded peoples to sit content amid 
their squalor, under the sting of their tyrannies, hiding from the eye of man- 
kind the resources of their territories and withholding from the service of the 
world the useful ministry of their hands. 

And yet when the wanderer through the ends of the British Empire in Asia 
has roused himself to this strenuous view, there will come to him memories 
of the mystery of the ancient and the undisturbed, the vanishing colors of 
the times that are slipping away will haunt his heart and he will half hesitate, 
and then the opiate of the East will numb his sense, and — well, 

"The temple bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be, 
By the old Moulmain Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea." 



BEFORE THE RAIN. 

By Madison Cawein. 



BEFORE the lain, low in the obscure East, 
Weak and morose the moon hung, sickly gray ; 
Around its disc the storm-mists, cracked and creased, 
Wove an enormous web wherein it lay 
Like some white spider hungry for its prey. 
Vindictive looked the scowling firmament, 

In which each star, that showed a daggered ray, 
Seemed tilled with malice of some dark intent. 

The marsh-frog croaked ; and underneath the stone 

The weary cricket raised a peevish cry ; 
Within the world these sounds were heard alone, 

Save when the ruffian wind swept from the sky, 

Making each tree like some sad spirit sigh; 
Or shook the clumsy beetle from its weed, 

That, in the drowsy darkness, bungling by, 
Sharded the silence with its feverish speed. 

Slowly the tempest gathered; hours past 

Before was heard the thunder's sullen drum 

Rumbling night's hollow ; and the earth at last, 
Restless with waiting, — like a woman, dumb 
With doubting of the love that should have clomb 

Her casement hours ago, — avowed again, 
'Mid protestations, joy that he had come; 

And all night long I heard the heavens explain 




IN A RED CROSS HOSPITAL CAMP, IN WAR TIME. 

SOME TAME ANIMALS I THOUGHT I KNEW. 

( A Brief for the Defence, in the Case of that Croivnless and Unchristian Martyr, the Mule.) 
By Martha McCulloch-Williams. 

UNCLE Remus and his prototypes have a favorite story to account for the 
shape, or, more accurately, the formlessness, of the African nose. It is 
to the effect that the Lord first made the white man and set him up 
against the fence to dry. Not quite satisfied with His handiwork, He stirred 
some blacking into the clay and made another man, who seemed to Him wholly 
admirable. So admirable, in fact, that He felt impelled to give a caressing 
stroke down the still plastic face. Result, the flattened nose as we see it to-day. 

If we had but mastered the Hounyhym language I make no doubt we 
should hear an analogous tale to account for certain structural peculiarities of 
the black man's correlative, the mule. The mule, as half horse, is no doubt 
as well versed in Hounyhym tradition and erudition as are Americans of 
royal descent in the dark and devious niceties of imperial pedigrees. Those 
royal-blooded Americans are so many and so various, we may be forced to go 
into the business of exporting kings and princesses along with our other man- 
ufactures. Yet I question if they add one-half so much of either pieturesque- 
ness or profit to national existence as does the crownless martyr, slanderously 
epitomized : "Without pride of ancestry or hope of posterity." 

In point of ancestry, either side, the mule can discount a duchess, or even 
a Colonial Dame. From the earliest recorded time asses have been known 
and appreciated as beasts of burden. A curious fact is that their domestica- 
tion goes back so far— no man can say certainly where they are aboriginal. 
Half a dozen species of so-called wild asses have been captured in as many 
countries— India, Thibet, the Soudan, etc. But everywhere the type approx- 
imates so nearly the domesticated animal that wise men end by deciding that 
the wild ones are but estrays— maybe for ten generations. Another curious 



1S4 



FliAXK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY 




W&P^t 



fact is t h at , 
while the most 
dissimilar o i' 

the horse fam- 
ily, as carl 
horse, Shet- 
land p o n y . 
Arabian barb, 
when crossed. 
produce perfect 
animals, t h ( 
cross - bred ass 
is infertile, as 
much a hybrid 
as the mule. 

Poppsea, Ne- 
ro ' s favorite 
empress, trav- 
elled always on picket line. 

with a thousand she-asses in her train, that she might bathe daily in their 
fresh milk. Mahomet fled upon the hack of an ass. Another ass bore "the 
young Child and his Mother" in the flight into Egypt. And Our Lord Him- 
self came into Jerusalem riding upon an ass's colt. Hence, say the devoutly 
superstitious, the cross upon a donkey's withers. Every beast has a dark stripe 
down the length of his backbone. About one in three has another dark stripe 
running at right angles down the shoulders from their highest point. Animals 
thus marked are thought in rural districts to have magic virtues. Ailing 
children are passed three times over and under them on saints' days and in 

the new moon and the full, 
with a lively hope of cure. To 
this day, in the Barbary States, 
asses are the saddle animals 
chosen by, or rather for, wom- 
en. A milk-white beast of 
good paces fetches easily a 
thousand dollars. Their riders 
are, for the most part, wives 
and daughters of wealthy Jews, 
who go unveiled, wear most 
masculine-looking white linen 
trousers, and ride in strict man- 
ashion. 

Possibly the .Moors brought 
mules to Spain along with 
alcohol and other creature com- 
forts. Possibly, also, theSpan- 
iard took along mule trains 




j \H*> 



'Ml.. I III |l- \ \|) I' \- I I I.I I ■' 



SOME TAME ANIMALS I THOUGHT I KNEW. 



m 



when he went tilting at the wind-mills of Holland, of all the Low Countries. For 
have we not all heard how u Our army swore terribly in Flanders"? Reason- 
ing by the inductive method, that certainly argues mules. < lertainly testimony 
less substantial 1ms been used to bolster up new interpretations of grave his- 
torical questions. Abstractly, the mule may not be a lir.-t cause of profanity, 
bul any teamster will tell .you he is apt to be a very lively occasion of it. 
Harking back to the black man, who has intimate mule sense impossible to 
the Caucasian, it is a cardinal article of faith with him that mult- absolutely 
require what he calls " cuss talk"; in fact, that they will neither work nor 
thrive without a due allowance of objurgation, picturesquely sulphurous. 

The sire of mules is a very different animal to the small, patient, ambling 
gray beast which children and tourists ride and costermongers drive. The 
coster and his sovereign, Victoria, Queen and Empress, prefer this pockel 
edition of a draught beast for most unlike reasons. Coster environment has 
room for no bigger. "Teddy the moke" often shares his master's lodgings, 
hence needs must he among the precious articles which come in small pack- 
ages. Queen Victoria's favorite white donkey is portable property — handily 
portable — and carried wherever Her Majesty goes, along with plate, bed-linen, 
and State papers. For, even if he were not a dependable beast, he is too full 
of years and sorrows to commit the high treason of running away — no small 
consideration in an animal promoted to serve as substitute for the rheumatic 
royal legs. 

Every mule of high degree is at least remotely half a Spaniard. The besl 
breeding stock comes from Spain — the cream of it out of the royal stables, 

which keep still a 
strain of blood 
brought by -the 
Moors, and trans- 
ferred with .Moor- 
ish s o v e reignty 
when ( rrenada fell. 
It is a liberal edu- 
cation in f i n e 
points asinine to 
stroll through the 
royal stables, some 
little way out of 
Madrid. The jacks 
are lusty fellow-. 
standing fourteen 
to sixteen hands, 
supple, powerful, 
long-reaching, far- 
striding, with eyes 
like black dia- 
monds, coats like 
black velvet, and 
13 




WAITING TO UK SHOD. 



186 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPl'LAI! MONTHLY. 



mealy muzzles of the sofesl pear] gray. Jennets stand relatively half a hand 
lower. Both sexes are of mild temper if permitted to be, though under ill 
treatment they grow savage. 

Their ancestry runs back beyond even Oriental tradition. It is certain 
their.- was an old family in Abraham's time. Among the picture-sculptures 
of Assyria Layard found mules — mules to chariots, mules ridden by women, 
mules drawing a king's triumphal ear. Who can say but that Nebuchad- 
nezzar grazed peacefully beside remote progenitors of these fine black brutes? 
Next to them, as mule sires, rank the yellow asses of Cyprus. It is somewhat 
a Ear cry from yellow asses to the British lion, but mules of that stock had 
very much to do with making it possible for John Bull to fight his African 
campaigns. Strong, active, hardy, sure of foot, spare feeders, of a marvellous 
endurance, they never let the column get away from its base of supplies. The 
value of that result was somewhat painfully demonstrated to the American 
public a very little while back. Certainly laurels plucked within the Hundred 
Days of '98 did not spring up along well-beaten mule tracks, notwithstanding 
all the hard cash Uncle Sam invested in the long-ears. 

Perhaps that is because Fate, though she permits some ironies, on the whole 
inclines to justice. It seems a paradox to couple Spain and George Washing- 
ton as factors in a result, yet to them jointly these United States owe their 
mules. The inference is obvious. Though Spain got her predestinate drub- 
bing, it was but little owing to the cudgel of her own providing. The army 
mule, albeit so plentifully mustered in, saw mighty little service outside his 
native land. 

Jt is a land that he loves and that ought to love him. In all the length and 
breadth of it there is nowhere a worthier beast, nor a wiser. In any reckoning 
of Washington's good deeds he can by no means be left out. Of course there 
were sporadic mules back in colonial days, dwarf, scurvy and ill-conditioned 

fellows, chance children of haphazard. When 
Washington put away the sword to receive a 
world's applause he gave his whole mind to the 
line art of being a country gentleman. As such 

lie lent an 
eager ear to 
^ travelers' 

tales which 
s u ggested 
h etter- 
ments f <> r 
the la n d 
and those 
who live by 
it. Thus 
he heard of 
mules that 
weremules, 
the riding 








ROUNDED II 



SOME TAME ANIMALS I Tl In re I IT I KNEW 



1ST 




^W* " ' READY TO BTAET. 



limit's of Africa, the pack mules bred in France, the Spanish mules, good to 
any use of edifying. An ambition seized on him to breed such beasts him- 
self. Just then the kings of both France and Spain were his very good 
friends. Pretty soon he received from them a brace of pure-bred jacks, each 
accompanied by two jennets. Knight of Malta, the French kings present, 
came from the island of his own name. Royal Gift, the King of Spain's 
choice, of course came from the royal stables ami fully merited his appellation. 

In those days Mr. Washington could set what fashion pleased him. Pretty 
soon, the mutual adaptation of negro and mule made itself so apparent, the 
beast's future was secure — at least throughout the South country. Neither 
asses nor mules thrive in cold regions. The historic parallel, thirty-six 
degrees, thirty minutes, does not however mark the limits of successful mule 
raising. That limit is rather an isotherm, with a normal mean temperature of 
fifty degrees in winter and eighty-live in summer. Mules arc bred indeed to 
some extent in every stock region south of Pennsylvania, yet three States 
had in the matter of production — Missouri, Kentucky and Tennessee. 

There, one finds not merely the most mules hut the best. The reason is 
not far to seek. The pioneers of all three, were in large part Virginians and 
Carolinians who brought along with them horses largely infused with the 
very hot running blood. Further, sons ami grandsons of Diomed, Sir Archy, 
and many another flyer, kept coming across the Blue Ridge to enrich the 
native strain ; there were als<> many direct importations of English sires, 
that altogether the common stock owns plenty of good Mood. It is a usual 
mistake, and a very big one, to think that a mule cannot show blood. He 
does show it often more distinctly than the horse. Ami there is no other 
animal in which good blood is so distinctly profitable. The mule from a 
well-bred dam may stand a hand lower, weigh a hundred lightei than his 
half-brother out of a Canestoga mare, yet as a two-year-old in the sales ring, 
will fetch half as much again. This because a wise buyer knows that blood- 
mules have even better endurance than blooded horses, Reasonably well 



188 



FRAXK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



used they are sightly and sprightly animals at thirty odd. Then too, they 
<at Less, and proportionately to weight, pull more. They are quicker, hardier 
more intelligent, and of better mettle. As an offset; the intelligence once 
misdirected, is apt to verge on the diabolic. 

Notwithstanding, the beast has a thousand virtues to link with this single 
crime. Set it down merely as a foible, that he is in his sentiments distinctly 
a snob. This is shown by his intense devotion to his maternal race, and his 
sovereign contempt of his own. Breeders are very glad of the foible. It is 
one they take advantage of to their own great convenience. With each bunch 
.if weanlings they graze a big quiet dependable mare, who wears a bell, and 
lends the hunch whithersoever she will. If pasture is to he shifted, all that 
is needed is to ride or lead the hell mare into the new quarters — she goes with 
the shaggy youngsters braying and frolicking at her heels. Fifty years hack, 
in the day- of mule droves, she was even more important than at present. 

For then the droves often traveled afoot, the five hundred miles betwixt 
home and a market. There were highwaymen in those days — men with 
plenty of nerve to seize a drove, and make off with it, shooting its masters 
and pastors if they dared to resist. The essential thing was either to secure, 
or to get away with, the bell mare. If she fell to the robbers, the drove 
went after her pell-mell, or if checked at first, stampeded the minute vigi- 
lance was relaxed. They never went along the trail they had traveled over, 
hut straight as the crow flies cross-country toward the mother of the drove. 
Rivers or mountains might lie between, but nothing checked them — they 
kept on and on until they found her, thus showing a faculty or instinct even 
more curious than the homing one, which leads a bird or an animal straight 
to its native haunt, across, it may be, a thousand miles. 

Contrawise, if the hell-mare was saved, the robbers in the end went light- 
handed. They might make off with the drove, yet have only their trouble 
for their pains. If they happened to have a rendezvous handy with a past- 
ure, other mules, and another mare, they might manage by a week's 
vigilance to save the most pari of their spoil. But such rendezvous were un- 
common — at 
least after the 
epoch of John 
M u r r e 1 1 , 
princeof high- 
waymen. Tra- 
dition says he 
had a pretty 
taste in both 
horse a n d 
in u 1 e flesh, 
and often 
w b e n on a 
preaching 
tour, di s- 
guised as a 



w 




\ DROVE OF FIVE HUNDRED. 



SOME TAME ANIMALS I THOUGHT I KNEW 



189 




minister, diverted 
himself after ser- 
mons by looking 
over the cattle ol 
his hearers, a n d 
then letting other 
in c in I) e rs of his 
band know which 
of them were best 
worth stealing. 

To the mind of 
every properly reg- 
ulated mule a fence 
is something made 
to be thrown down 
or jumped over. By 
that I do nol mean 
that he is a four- 
footed anarchist, 
with a heel against 
government of every 
sort. But rather 
he is a creature born 
to jump. He does jump, upon any occasion or none 



^*3Hfc 










IN THE HOSPITAL. 



Put him in a 
pasture 1 knee-deep with luslTherbage, he will graze to the fence, and at 
once begin trying conclusion with it. If it is no higher than his breast, 
he is likely to go over it within five minutes, unless he is sharp-sel tor 
green stuff, and the green stuff very tempting. If the barrier takes him 
well along the neck, he will graze his fill, and maybe lie down for two hours 
in the shade, before making up mind and body to the jumping point. Next 
thing is to find a jumpable place. A fence, like a chain, is only as strong as 
its weakest panel. Master mule searches for it in off-hand dilettante fashion. 
Now he makes a feint of going over where it is as high as his head : anon he 
sets a vicious breast against a particularly sturdy length ; then maybe he 
hacks away, and stands for half an hour, the very model of resigned contem- 
plation. Motionless, with head extended, eyes either closed or cast down. 
he shows in the sunlit space a pattern of docile meekness. Fl.es even do not 
move him, before the spirit. If his fellows come near he does not so much 
as wave an ear in greeting. 

He might be a statue, you think. Look again. The statue has come to 
life with a vengeance! See, he has flung himself down, and is wallowing 
with little wicked satisfied brays. Supplely he gets upon his feet, gives a 
long triumphant hee-haw, and goes at the fence like a catapult, or over i 
like a baseball. Once outside, he flings up his head sidewise, gives a still 
louder brav— a call to his mates to follow— and dashes off at top -peed. 

Possibly he has broken into a lush cornfield. More likely into a stretch oi 
the barest fallow. It is all the same to him— both lie the other side of the 



190 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 




MULES FOR SOUTH AFRICA. 

fence. From this vou will perceive the mule's one vice. He has the m us- 

wump mind, to which whatever is not is right. A cynic observer once said, 
t: Mules must look at fences as human beings do at matrimony. Those who 
are inside are wild to get out, and those outside even wilder to get in." 

Possibly natural vanity has something to do with it. The best of us have 
a weakness for displaying a pre-eminent inborn gift. The mule that could 
ii"' or did not jump, would not he worth his salt, much less his hay and 
oats. For the must part, the jumping is wholly without malice. Often 
indeed, there appears to he something waggish, even distinctly humorous 
about it. One mule within my knowledge would lead his comrades over the 
stoutesl fence into the woodland world, and defying pursuit or capture, make 
the circuit of the plantation, a matter of several miles, then jump in where 
he had jumped out, and conic trotting to the stable lot, the very sum and 
pattern of docile innocence. 

The widely current slander that a mule regards kicking as his true reason 
of being, like mosl lies "crystallizes about a nucleus of truth." Mules can 
••nid do kick upon occasion : never, in the beginning, without it. It is a vice 
of opportunity after that— one which grows by what it feeds on, and also by 
what it lights on. Mule memories arc retentive, neither is the beast without 
reasoning powers. lb- is also a respecter of persons. .Many a time 1 have been 
over, under, through, above, below, between, beneath, a six-mule team, the 
pride and delighl of my heart, and come out scatheless. A man, even the one 
who habitually drove them, would hardly have fared SO well. < meat least had a 

reputation as a kicker, *and c monly lived up to it. Yet he would stretch 

his nose to be rubbed like an affectionate dog, and always gave a little de- 
lighted whimpering bray when he saw my arms full of corn in the milk. Poor 
old han' His was a lion-heart the deepest, miriesl mud could not daunt, 
Indeed, the team throughout was as true as steel, game and steady enough to 



somi-: tame a.ximals i thought i knew 



191 



move the most mountainous load. It was never stalled so long as it wa 
team, though it often drew upon mads hub-deep in holding red clay. 

Jet and Crow, the Mack wheelers, were a famous pair of inseparables. 
From the day they came to the plantation, they were never willingly apart. 
Even at grass their heads almost touched, [n double harness, to plough or 
wagon, they drew as one beast, steadily, evenly, stepping together, and throw- 
ing themselves against the collar as by one impulse. Working singly in the 
same field they were palpably uneasy, and brayed complaints one to another 

at least three times an hour. But when one was taken, tl ther left, the 

distress was pitiable. The desolate one would neither rest nor grazi — he ran 
up and down braying, until he ended by jumping out and running away. 
Even the buggy mare's society did not console him, although when the two 
were together they followed her like her shadow. At last Crow died very 
suddenly. Jet was never the same mule afterward. 

A word as to mule drivers. Like poets, they need to he horn, and get a 
deal of making afterward. Failure to recognize this fact had no doubt very 
much to do with the difficulties of transportation in the matter of the camps 
and campaigns. Mules are, on the whole, better judges of men than men 
are of mules. They recognize instantly the hand and eye of a master, also 
the timorous or unready person with whom they can take liberties. Such an 
one had better never have been born than essay the part of a teamster. In- 
deed, it is not too much to say that a man who would shine as an ambassa- 
dor, or make a fairish President, might fail utterly to keep six mules, or four, 
or even two, exactly in the way they should go. 




GOVERNMENT MULES— NOON HOUR. 



FOR HIS HONOR'S SAKE. 




By Martha Henderson Gray. 

HP] Rev. Philip Ware looked thoughtfully around the 
sitting-room of the tiny fiat. It was very homelike ; 
there were evidences of a woman's fingers in every 
little nook, and over all was the soft rose light from 
the lamp. 

Five months hefore he had entered this room for 
the first time, and this was to be the last time that he 
should ever see it. 

No one knew of the struggle that there had been 
in the soul of the Rev. Philip Ware before he had 
made this decision, but then no one knew his soul at all except the dweller 
• if the tiny Hat. 

She had come into his parish six months before, and he had made his first 
call upon her in his capacity of minister. He had called many times — very 
many times, but these were not altogether in the capacity of minister. 

This was noted by his devoted parish, and on this account the newcomer 
was promptly disliked by several. There was one girl who disliked her 
particularly ; a tall dark girl, with beautiful hair, and the face of a saint. 
Before the arrival of the new parishioner, she was the one whom the young 
minister had been wont to consult on matters of parish interest, but of late 
there bad been few matters worthy of consultation. Since the tall dark girl had 
never been known to dislike anyone before, this of itself was sufficient reason 
to the parish tor having its doubts about this "person." Besides the report 
had been spread abroad, started by someone who " knew her before she came 

to M ," that she was separated from her husband. 

So it was thai a lew kind souls in the church, mostly those with mar- 
riageable daughters, bad repeated a part of this gossip to him, and had given 
him some motherly advice. 

The young minister bad listened kindly, and in reply had spoken a few 
Btrong but polite words, at which no one could take offence, and yet some- 
how no one bad cared to give him advice again on that subject. 

The Rev. Philip Ware thought of all this as be waited and wondered 
grimly if it would not have been better for him to have taken their advice, 
but he put thi- thought away as unworthy him. So. up to this point it had 
been all right, and now that he saw his duty clearly, be would do it. He 
did not in the 1, -Mst doubt his ability to do his duty, for there were three 

things u] which he prided himself — his independence, his strength of will 

and his honor. To look at him. you would know thai he had good founda- 
tion- for this belief in himself, with his broad-shouldered, erect figure, his (inn 
square jaw, and clear hazel eyes. Hut in his facial analysis, the Rev. Philip 
Ware had left out hi- mouth, and this was an important feature, for the 
fullness of the clean-shaven, well-curved lips betokened that the young 



FOR HIS HONOR'S SAKE. 193 

minister was not without his passions. Any well-versed physiognomisl 
would have predicted a constant struggle betwen those lips and the pun' 
honest eyes, the issue of it depending entirely upon which side the square 

jaw took. 

It would be very simple, he reasoned. lit! would not stay long, they 
would have a pleasant, friendly chat at first, and then as he was going, 
he would tell her. She would understand ; she was a woman of the world, 
and would know what he meant without his telling it all. 

Then feeling that he was not alone, he looked up and saw her standing in 
the doorway. She was looking at him with a peculiar intense expression in 
her eyes, and he caught the look before she had time to veil it behind her 
usual laughing manner. Be had seen that same look twice before in his life : 
once in the eyes of a starving child, and again in the eyes of a mother when 
he told her that her only hoy was dead. 

At that look, the Rev. Philip Ware lost his wonderful self-control ; for once 
his lips gained the mastery. Springing to his feet, he strode determinedly 
to the door and clasped the soft, womanly figure in his arms. She quivered a 
little and then was very still. Silently he lifted her head ami looked at her 
intently — at the broad, low forehead with the soft brown hair rippling hack 
from it, the changeable gray eyes and smooth skin. She was not exactly a 
beautiful woman — she never had been beautiful, and now her face showed 
one or two lines of care ; yet anyone would have to admit that the quick 
changes of expression gave it a certain fascination and an individuality 
which could not be imitated. It was the face a painter might choose for an 
angel — an angel of darkness or light according to the mood of his model. 

Having finished his scrutiny, he gently pressed her head backward against 
his shoulder and laid his lips upon hers. Somehow he had forgotten about 
the friendly chat and the little message just before he went. It was unfor- 
tunate that he had reckoned without consulting his lips. 

Suddenly the sound of a bell in the next Hat brought them to conscious- 
ness. It was the woman who started back. 

"Let me go, Philip," she said, quickly and firmly ; "let me go." 

But he made no motion except to clasp her more closely. There was a 
clogged look in his eyes which she did not like to see; undoubtedly the 
square jaw had joined forces with the lips. 

" Philip," she pleaded, and there was a ring almost of desperation in her 
voice, " for God's sake let me go." 

At that name — the name of the King whose ambassador he was — some 
consciousness of what he was doing came to the Rev. Philip Ware, and for 
God's sake — for His only — he let her go. 

Without speaking he turned, and going to the window, looked out into 
the well-lit street, where carriages were passing to and fro, and the pave- 
ment swarmed with eager, hurrying life. As he looked down, he wondered 
if in that throng there were any who were depending upon his guidance to 
reach the heavenly gate. He rather hoped that then were not, for to-night 
he was not quite sure himself where the heavenly gate was. 

Her low musical voice aroused him. 



194 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

" Philip, what did you conic for to-night? Was it — that?" 

Be gave a short, grim laugh. 

"No," he answered, "not exactly." 

Then as she did not speak, he went on : 

••Would yon really like to know what 1 came for? Well, it was to tell 
you that this would he my last call upon you, for I loved you more than 
such an honorable man as myself" — with hitter emphasis — " ought to love 
another man's wife. 1 had planned to intimate this rather than to tell you 
outright, in order to save you any embarrassment. I have intimated it, I 
think, quite successfully," he added, grimly. "I thought that we would 
just have a friendly chat in which we would touch upon topics of common 
interest, for I was to keep my confession for the closing sentence. It is not 
too late for the social part of the program yet. I helieve one generally 
begins with the weather." He looked critically at the shining stars. "1 
think," he said, with grave deliberation, "that we are going to have a 
pleasant day to-morrow." 

He had expected her to pass over this flippant remark, and take the 
more serious matter in hand, perhaps even to chide him for his lightness, as 
.die often did. 

Instead, she shrugged her shoulders slightly, and said, in an aroused voice : 

" I feel exactly as if I were at a church social ; for at those functions, con- 
versation generally stops at that point. However, since you insist upon 
discussing it, I think it will rain." 

He turned quickly and faced her, but she met his flashing eyes with a 
steady, laughing gaze. 

She hail been standing there listening to the calm, deliberate words he had 
spoken, and her face had turned from red to white — here, a woman of the 
world to whom the love of man was hut a plaything. 

She learned from his hitter tone of the struggle which he made against her, 
and she had quickly decided upon her course. 

'•Marian." he said, in a low, intense tone, "have you done this thing 
deliberately? Don't you cart;?" 

She dropped her eyes. 

"Doesn't it take due deliberation to prophesy rain? Of course T care. I 
had a new hat I wanted to wear to-morrow." 

'You are simply talking against time; you must answer me sooner or 
later. Listen to me, Marian. 1 have told you of my first intention ; hut 
surely you know that all is changed now. My love for you is stronger than 
anything else, and — you musl love me, you shall." 

'I he Rev. Philip Ware'- voice rang out as firmly and powerfully as was its 
wont when he read, "Thou shall not," in the Commandments. Perhaps the 
woman though! of this, for she shivered slightly. 

' Von know that tu me," he weal on, more quietly, "death alone has the 
power in separate those who have been joined together; hut since in your 
eyes divorce is lawful, I will wait until you are freed. So now there can he 
nothing to keep us apart unless you say that you do not love me; hut you 
do— is it not so, sweet '.'" 



FOR TITS ffONOR'S SAKl 




IIK TOOK HEP. HANDS AND REVERENTLY LIFTED THEM TO HIS LIPS. 
Drawn by C. D Graves. 

He took her hands, and looked a. her a. she stood "y^-t-the 
m(ls ical cadence of ln S voice seemed to come to her < ;!"''■ ;"',;. 

"Answer me, Marian, my darling, my love! don t torture 
silence. Yon would n,.t, if von knew how Love, 1 you 



196 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

face, she looked like a being from another world ; yet the painter would have 
drawn her tor an Angel of Darkness and not an Angel of Light. 

He bent nearer slowly, as if afraid of frightening her, hut as he touched her 
hair she started back and, snatching away her hands, moved quickly to the 
other side of the room. Slowly she turned and faced him, and when she 
spoke her voice was calm and natural. 

'•I think yon must surely he forgetting yourself. I did not know that I 
had ever given you cause to think that I loved you — until, perhaps, just now; 
hut that was because — because you surprised me so that I did not realize 
what you were saying and doing." 

Had she thought of it she would have been amused at herself for faltering 
— she to whom this was an old story. 

But as she glanced at him there was something in his eyes that she could 
not bear to sec — those eyes from whose depths she would have kept away the 
shadow of pain with her very life. She only knew that she loved him better 
than anything in the heavens above or the earth beneath or the waters under 
the earth — the phrase came to her unbidden — and that she had given him his 
death-blow. Why could she not go to him as lie sat there, with his head 
buried in his hands, and tell him this — -tell him that she would do what he 
asked, would go with him anywhere? 

if she alone were to he considered, she would do it ; but he must be kept 
-ate ; his honor must never la' blemished, nor his career as a priest of God be 
spoiled. So this woman, of whom the world spoke so slightingly, nerved 
herself to begin the struggle against him and her other self. 

"I have always been called heartless," she said in an unemotional tone, 
•'and 1 must he if I have made yon believe that I love you, for I do not; I 
never have ; I never can." 

The last was uttered with difficulty, for he had lifted his eyes to her face, 
anil she saw that they were haggard and drawn, even in the soft lamplight. 

••.Marian.*' he said, "'must you take all? I have given you my love, my 
honoi- ; must you take my faith, too? For if you have deceived me there is 
no one whom I can ever trust. Pity me. Marian ! have mercy ! tell me that 
you did not deceive me. that you do love me — only that, dearest; only that. 
A man can live without love or hope ; he can even die without them ; hut he 
can neither live nor die without faith." 

She Stood before him with hands loosely clasped and watched his every 
movement u ith a pitiable attention t<> details. She noticed that as he rose he 
pressed hi- heel upon the head of the blue dragon on the rug. She wondered 
if it hurt the ugly thing, and idly put her hand to her own head to make sure 
that it was the blue dragon, and not herself, that he was grinding under his 
heel. Suddenly -lie became conscious that he had stopped speaking and was 
waiting for her reply. Slowly she gathered her scattered senses and looked 
up at him. The happiness was gone out of her eyes, but there was that ex- 
pression in them that made the man I'eel he was not worthy to touch the hem 
nf her garment. 

"You are right, Philip," -he said softly. "1 — 1 thought I was doing it 
the best way. hut I didn't know, for I'm — I'm not good, you know. It is not 



FOR HIS HONOR'S SAKE. 197 

because I do qoI wish to — to do as yon want me to do, but because I will not 
and I will not because I love you, dear." 

The light flashed into her eyes, and the angel was the woman again. 

u 0h, Philip, my darling, my life, I Love you so more than anyone else 
could ever love you. Yet you will marry her — the girl who hates me 30, the 
girl who has always been good. Mow long would she love yon if she knew 
of this, do you think ? She loves you only because you are noble and rever- 
ent and good, while I " — her voiee was harsh with pain — 'oh, Philip, I would 
love you in heaven or earth or hell." 

The man could bear no more. lie caught her hands and pressed the palms 
passionately to his lips. His very touch seemed to soothe her, for she drew 
them gently away, and when she -poke her voice u;i- low and sweet. 

"I have never loved anyone, you know, dear, so perhaps that is what 
makes it so hard. I married because I had no home and he was good to me. 
Since then I have not cared whether men loved me Or not. They were rather 
amusing, and I was not good enough for the women to care for me," she 
added bitterly. " But when you came into my life I knew then what it would 
have been to have the love of a good man." She paused and looked at him 
longingly. " Philip," she said pleadingly, yet with a note of shyness in her 
tone, "may I run my fingers through your hair 9 You must be very, very 
quiet and not touch me." 

The man looked at her with mute eyes that reminded her somehow of 
the eyes of a dog. She gave a low laugh full of almost childish joy as she 
ran her white fingers caressingly through his dark hair. 

"I have always wanted to do this," she said. " You have such pretty 
hair, so thick, and black, and wavy. 1 believe that I love it best of all, but 
then I love all of you best." 

She paused a moment and looked at him critically. 

"Yes," she said, thoughtfully, '•you are more than handsome; it always 
seemed to me that the beauty your face has could be best defined by a phrase 
in the catechism. I learned the catechism when 1 was a little girl, Philip ; 
think of it!" 

The man smiled lovingly at her. " What is the phrase, dearest ? I do not 
believe it will make me conceited." 

' ; 'An outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace,' " she re- 
peated, softly adding with an effort : " And that is why I would not let you 
do just as you wanted to-night. If you were less good. Philip — if you had 
made no struggle against it — perhaps 1 would have heard you. for 1 love you 
so. Now I will go back to him, the one who the law says is my husband, and 
you wdl marry the beautiful girl who does not know wdiat wickedness means. 
I could never satisfy all of you. for Tain not good enough.'" Her lip quiv- 
ered a little. '• Philip," she cried, " why did God forget to put a soul in me 
when T was made? Perhaps he did give me one. but there was no one to 
help it to grow. Do you think," she asked suddenly, "" that she would have 
loved you enough to give you up?" 

But just then the clock chimed the hour. There were a many strokes, and each 
one seemed to beat upon their consciousness the fact that now they must part. 



iys 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY 



•• You must go, Philip," she snid gently. The man rose. 

''This is the end?" he asked in a hard, dry tone 

"This is the end.'" she repeated softly, and held out her hand. 

He drew a quick breath and looked at her hand reproachfully. 

■• \"t that way ; surely, not that way, dear? May I not at least tell you 
goodby as I want?" 

She wavered an instant, but looked up into his face with a brave smile. 

•• No : it would do no pood and only make it harder for both of us. I know 
a 1 »etter way— the way your mother would tell you goodby. Lean down a 
minute, Philip." 

She slipped her arms around his neck and rested her soft Lips for an instant 
on his forehead. 

"Goodby, my life," she whispered so low that he scarcely heard it. 
'■ Keep pood always." 

He took her hands and reverently lifted them to his lips, kissing them in 
the pretty pink palms. * 

••Just one thing, Philip," she said wistfully. '' Do you think that I have 
harmed you much? I would hate to harm the onky one I have ever loved, 
you know," she added with a pathetic little break in her voice. 

Strong man as he was, this was too much for him. Tears choked his voice 
so that he could not answer, but he shook his head. 

He opened the outer door of the little flat just as someone passed through 
the hall humming one of the airs he had heard a few minutes before at the 
theatre. The woman recognized him and smiled as he passed her door. 
Tinning to the young minister, she said : 

"I will open the lower door for you. Be sure to latch it after you ; the 
janitor is so particular." 

'•1 will," he replied; "good-night." 

"Good-night," she answered, and watched him as he slowly descended the 
stairs without ever turning back. When she heard him put his foot upon the 
lowest step she pressed the button ; the street door swung heavily back. 

" All right," he said in a low tone, and the door clicked after him. 
■ She gave a little gasp at the sound and mechanically went into her own 

apartment. For a few moments she si 1 motionless in the centre of the 

pretty little sitting-room. The lamp flickered warningly, but she did not 
observe it. She was looking at the blue dragon on the rug. At last, with a 
little moan of anguish, she dropped to the floor and pressed her cheek upon 
the blue dragon's head. 

The pretty rose-colored lamp went out and Left her in' merciful darkness. 




BUEN IVIST \ \ BP wish VIL- 

LA, NEAR STAMFORD, CONN. 

Designed by Mrs. /•;. / . tfolman. 



WOMEN AS ARCHITECTS. 

By Joseph Dana Miller. 
THE AMERICAN WOMAN IN ACTION.— XIX. 

THERE are few practising architects among women in the United States, 
but these few have accomplished enough to make it profitable to dired 
our attention to their work. Miss Lois L. Howe, who resides in Boston, 
and who won second prize for her design for the Woman's Building ;it the 
World's Fair, says : " The field of architecture is so little known to women 
that it is scarcely time to say much about their fitness for it. It seem- to 
me to contain no obstacles winch may not be overcome by any woman whose 
determination and interest in her work are strong enough to face them." 

Perhaps the best known woman architect in the country is Mrs. .Minerva 
Parker Nichols, of Brooklyn. Since her marriage a few years ago, she has 
not practised, but the New Century Club House in Philadelphia, on Twelfth 
street, near Sansom, stands as strong testimony to the high quality of her 
art. Its style is Renaissance, and it is built of Pompeian brick and Indiana 
limestone. Mrs. Nichols came to her line of work by hereditary right, for 
her grandfather was a well known architect and ship designer. The New 
Century Club House at Wilmington, Delaware, is also of her designing ; and 
to these should be added a handsome residence at Overbrook, Pennsylvania, 
and a schoolhouse (old Colonial) at Cambridge, Massachusetts; a tine cot- 
tage at Avon-by-the-Sea, ami a number of homes of pleasing architectural 
exterior. 

Two houses in Germantown, however, are .Mrs. Nichols's especial pride, 
because in these instances the architectural talent has been reinforced by the 
maternal instinct. This union has resulted in a do/en dainty devices — clothes, 
china and laundry closets, dumb elevators everywhere, and, think of it ' a 
bath room for the baby, with every convenience for the infant's and mother's 
comfort. Mrs. Nichols personally superintended the erection of these build- 
ings, and in the case of the New Century Club House at Wilmington, the 

t, if a 



200 FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 

builder declared that he had never worked for an architect who better under- 
stood the business. 

The Woman's Building at the Atlanta Exposition grounds was the work of 
Mrs. Wagner, nke Mercur, of Pittsburgh. She not only prepared the plans, 
but superintended the construction to the minutest detail. It has been 
her custom to engage living apartments in the neighborhood where her 
designs are in process of execution that she may witness the progress of every 
step from beginning to completion. In addition to the Woman's Building at 
the Atlanta Exposition, she has prepared plans for and personally superin- 
tended the building of the Female Seminary at Washington, Pennsylvania ; 
the Children's Building at Marshalsea, Pennsylvania ; St. Martin's Church at 
Johannesburg, Pennsylvania ; St. John's Chapel at Pittsburgh, and'the re- 
modeling of the Pittsburgh College for Women, in that city. The central 
portion of the College received an addition of two stories, and to the left a 
gymnasium was added. Mrs. Wagner has just completed the Wilson College 
at Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, and a Seminary building at Washington, 
Pennsylvania. But as with most of these ladies, it is the home features of 
the work in which, with true feminine instinct, she takes the greatest pride ; 
and Mrs. Wagner considers that a house at Edgewood, Pennsylvania, has the 
finest interior of any home she has planned. 

Miss Ida Annah Ryan, who is a practising architect at Waltham, Massa- 
chusetts, was early attracted during her high-school days to the study of 
design, and a few years later, at the end of her term at the Massachusetts 
Institute of Technology, her junior design received the first of the first four 
prizes, and she was then invited to compete with only senior and fifth class 
men in the Junior Beaux Arts contest, in which she won second prize for a 
grand plan, elevation and section of a public market. Among her later designs 
are a sanitarium, to be built at South Farmlngham, Massachusetts, contain- 
ing twenty-one rooms, and a large hall running through the house. The 
building will be Colonial, but simple in detail ; painted white, with dark 
green blinds, and located upon a twelve-acre lot. 

Miss Lois L Howe, of Boston, is represented in the illustration taken from 
;i photograph of the interior additions to the Lowell house at Cambridge. 
Mass. Miss Howe i- ;i relative of the Lowell family. She 1 took second prize 
for a design for the Woman's Building at the World's Fair, as already men- 
tioned, and has followed the profession of architect assiduously ever since. 
The suburban houses she has planned have be< n Colonial for the most part, 
but her most interesting work has been in additions and remodeling. 

The Misses Hands and Gannon are two young architects who practise in 
co-partnership in New York city. There are many cottages along the Jersey 
coast which owe their designs to the tasteful art of these young women. But 
their mosl notable achievement is a plan for model tenements, which has ex- 
torted the admiration of such students of the problem of the housing of the 
poor as E. h\ L. Gould and Jacob Ki is, author of "How the Other Half 
Lives." When these plans were laid before Sir Sidney Waterlow, head of 
the Improved Dwellings. Company, in London, be said, with much enthusi- 
asm : "These are the Inst plans for single tenements I have ever seen, the 



WOMEN AS ARCHITECTS. 



21 1 1 




MARY N.GANNON. KTH1CL FRANCES SARGENT. 



IDA ANNAII RYAN. 



most clever and ingenious ;" and Jacob Riis said : "They have, in my judg- 
ment, solved the question of building a decenl tenement on a twenty-five-foot 
lot. ... 1 am content to know that the question I jugded incapable of 

solution lias been solved." 

Those young architects studied the tenement problem in a very practical 
way. For years they talked and studied over their plans, and it was 1 < » i i lt 
before they were finally matured. Then they went to Forsyth street and 
lived as factory girls Live. All the inconveniences, unhealthy surroundings 
and bad sanitation they acquainted themselves with by actual experience : 
and they set to work to devise plans which should abolish the many evils 
incident to tenement life. It was a problem in morals as well as construction 
that they had set themselves to study. 

These plans for a model tenement provide for a house ninetyfeet long, with 
ten feet of space to conform to legal requirements ; a court in the centre of the 
building ; tiled entrance and a hallway of porcelain walls. Each apartment 




HARRIET FRANCES LOCKE 



ALICE J. HANDS. 



ELIse MERCCR WAGNER. 

11 



202 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



has it.- own balcony, and there are fire escapes at both the back and front of 
the house. An arc light in the court will illuminate every room in the house. 
The roof, with railings eight feet high, is designed as a breathing spot. There 
is an ash chute and garbage receptacle which solves the refuse problem. The 
often perplexing questions of interior conveniences— light, so desirable in 
tenements of the cheaper class, cleanliness and hygienic conditions — are solved 
in many ingenious ways ; and the entire plan is remarkable for its complete- 
ness of detail, its economy of space, and the homeliness and comforts realized 
at a minimum rental, for an average rent of $2.50 per week will pay a fair 
return on the capital required for land and building. A company has been 
formed and land purchased in West Fifty-seventh street, New York, where 
the ideals of these earnest and clever young women may be realized. These 
model tenement plans are hot the only achievement of these girls. Together 
they designed the Florence Hospital, at San Francisco, erected at a cost of 
$30,000, and a villa for Mr. C. F. Johnson, of California, modelled after the 
Czar's palace at Livadia and costing $50,000. 

Mrs. E. Elizabeth Holman, of Chestnut street, Philadelphia, occupies rather 
a unique position among architects. She has designed pretty nearly 
everything except office buildings — theatres, hotels, stores, and city and sub- 
urban residences. She has won a wide reputation for quaint and unusual 
Summer cottages, which have the merit of being convenient and comfort- 
able, as well as cheap. 

Few of those who do business with " E. E. Holman, Architect," sus- 
pect that these initials stand for a woman who has practiced her profession 
for eight years and whose houses are in every State of the Union, except Mis- 
sissippi, including, too, Summer houses in Canada and only recently a house 




WOMAN 8 BUILDING IT THE vn.WTA EXPOSITION — NIGHT VIEW, 

/>. Hi,,, J by Mi s. Wagnt i 



WOMEN AS ARCHITECTS 



203 




INTEKIOK ADDITIONS TO THE LOWELL HOUSE AT CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
Designed ft;/ Lois L. Howe. 

built in Jamaica, British West Indies, the material for which was mill-made 
in this country and shipped there. 

Among Mrs. Holman's more ambitions work is a Summer house in the 
Dutch Colonial style at Cazenovia, New York, designed to give as nearly as 
possible the effect of the old family mansion of by-gone days. The house has 
a central hall fronting on the side which overlooks a lake. The staircase i- 
of old Colonial style, the quaint balustrade having been taken bodily from an 
old house. 

But the work which Mrs. Holman considers her best is Buenavista, a villa 
in the Spanish style, shown in the cut at the head of this article, built upon 
a hill near Stamford, Connecticut. It is a striking instance of the possibil- 
ity of making a house "climb gracefully down-hill." There is a drop of 
from twenty to fifty feet between its two ends and quite a drop at the , 
cochere. This is built low, and stairs inside go up between arches tilled with 
glass, which form a palm house. The front and main side entrances have curi- 
ously carved doors, modelled somewhat on those of Spanish churches. There 
is a large entrance hall with a stair tower and a reception room opening from 
this hall, all of which are Moorish in decoration. The living hall is an im- 
mense room panelled in white, to increase its apparent size, and with two 
large windows filling all of the north end, except that portion occupied by the 
fire-place, and commanding a most magnificent view. The long corridor, 
with outside balcony leading to the curved stair, has below it a billiard room 



204 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



and a smoking "den" Lack of that. The communication between library 

and billiard room is made through an artistic lobby with descending steps. 
From the billiard room, stairs go up to the tower, which like all the others 
affords a splendid view of the surrounding country. This is a magnificent 
house, on a commanding site, and Mrs. Holman is prouder of it than of any 
other of her designs. 

To the names of women architects given should be added those of Miss 
Esther Stone, the first woman to win the Rotch prize at the Massachusetts 
Institute of Technology, and now of the firm of Stone, Carpenter & Willson, 
of Providence, Rhode Island; Miss Esther Sargent, now assistant in the 
architect's office of the B. M. R. R". in Boston, and designer of a school 
building at Saco, Maine, and a number of fine residences; Miss Harriet F. 
Locke, of Nashua, New Hampshire; Miss Laura Hayes Fuller, of Chicago, 
designer of the Woman's Building at the coming exposition at Springfield 
and a prize winner in the competition for plans for the Woman's Building at 
the World's Fair ; Miss Sophia G. Harden, the successful competitor in that 
contest, and considered the very best draughtswoman ever graduated from 
the Massachusetts Institute of Technology ; and Miss Annie L. Hawkins, a 
graduate of the Maryland Institute of Art and Design, who has to her credit 
a high school building at Havre de Grace, Md. But the pioneer among women 
architects is Mrs. Bethune, now living, I believe, in Buffalo. Attention was 
attracted to her a few years ago by reason of her application for membership 
in the New York Association of Architects, which met with much opposition. 

That the number of women who have essayed the profession of architec- 
ture is yet so small is due to the fact that few institutions supply the neces- 
sary instruction, and to the other fact that established architects are not eager 
to employ women in the offices where alone the really practical knowledge is 
to be acquired. 




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PITTSHI'lMiM < ol.l.KCK FOR WOMEN. 

i.i ,n:„i, i, i i,, i i/, v Wagner. 




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JOUBERT. 

Is Joubert fallen? tbal old hero dead, 
Laid low, in proud sleep with the battle slain? 
Now, who shall grudge him glory? Nol again 

May we behold his like, as at the head 
of his embattled Burghers, them he led, 

Faith against Destiny, and saw them wane, 

Fighting for others' honor, all in vain, 
Victorious, yet the while his own hear) hied. 
Pause, Nations ! and salute his passing pall. 

Here was a soldier Britons might admire 
You, Frenchmen, and Americans, and all ! 

And if your souls to Chivalry aspire, 
Write, in her Pantheon, I'iet .louhert's name, 
To plead against oblivion for his fame. 

jj - //i 11/1/ Tyrrell. 

" Q." 

The well-known signature, "Q.", which 
stands for A. T. Quiller-Coucb, appears 
this month for the first time in Frank 
Leslie's Popular Monthly, in the dash- 
ing tale of "The Two Scouts." There is 
no living writer of the English language 
who can surpass Mr. Quiller-Coucb. in 
verve of style combined with vivacious 
poetic imagination — qualities which were 
well taken into account by the literary 
executors of the late Robert Louis Steven- 
son, whose romance of "St. Ives" — left 
incomplete at the master's death— was in- 
trusted to the brilliant "Q." to finish. 
How well he acquitted himself of this 
delicate task, we all know. Mr. W. L. 
Alden, the London correspondent of the 
New York Times' "Saturday Review," 
writing recently of this achievement, 
says : 

" Mr. Quill er-Couch succeeded marvel- 
onsly when he finished Stevenson's 'St. 
Ives,' but in that case Stevenson had a 
style that was so distinctive that the work 
of imitation was thereby rendered less 
difficult than it might otherwise have 
been. Not that Mr. Quiller-Couch did not 
deserve the very highest credit for the ad- 
mirable way in which he did his work. 
I remember that I was shocked when 1 
heard that 'St. Ives' was to be finished 
by another hand than that of its incom- 
parable author, and I felt that Mr. Quiller- 



Couch was an extremely presumptuous 
man. But the result fully justified his 

action. I did not then know what a deli- 
cate artist Mr. Quiller-Couch was. I now 
heartily wish thai he would undertake the 
st ill greater task of finishing ' Weir of Her- 
miston.' " 

But "Q." is very busy with his own 
works. Besides his fiction writing, he 
has just turned out (Scribner's, New York) 
an admirable hook entitled " Historical 
Tales from Shakespeare," a work intended 
mainly for young readers just entering t he 
Fairyland of the great bard. In his pref- 
ace, explaining the patriot i c spirit of these 
historical tales which he sets forth so fas- 
cinatingly, Mr. Quiller-Couch justly ob- 
serves that no patriotism can be true 
which does nol tend to give a boy chival- 
rousness or lend a girl tenderness of heart. 
He says : 

"Of true and fervent patriotism these 
plays are full. Indeed, though they are. 
m Charles Lamb's words, ' strengthened 
of virtue' in many ways, that remains 
their great lesson. It has been said that 
the real hero of Shakespeare's historical 
plays is England, and no one can read them 
and be deaf to the ringing, vibrating note 
of pride. * to have inherited the 

liberties of so great a country and be a par- 
taker in her glory. And this love of Eng- 
land is the sincerer for the courage with 
which Shakespeare owns and grieves that 

she has been sometimes humiliated, some- 
times untrue to herself. Rut, if this were 
not enough, he has left us — in Falcon- 
bridge, in King Harry, in the two Talbots 
— lofty yet diverse examples of what pa- 
triotism can do ; and, again, in Coriolanus 
and .Marcus Brutus, particular warnings of 
how even able men who love their coun- 
try may, by a little unwisdom, injure hei 
and wreck themselves." 

AN ARTIST-ILLUSTRATOR. 

The illustrator of '-The President's 

War." the notable leading article in this 

number of Frank Leslie's Popclar 

Monthly, is Mr. James Henry Harper, of 



20G 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY 



Washington, J). C. Mr. Harper, whose 
work speaks for itself, is an enthusiast in 
his profession, in which he has achieved. 
a somewhat unique distinction. He is 
fond of describing himself as an author 




JAMES HENRY HARPER. 

" in the universal language." Regarding 
his Buperb picture of President McKinley 
in the "War Room, on page 115, Mr. Harper 
writes: "The President, whose career 
started as one of the 'men on horseback' 
in the Civil War, is here represented as 
the Man at the Helm, the man whose 
heart-beat quickens as he breasts the wave 
and storm. With calm demeanor he takes 
hig bearings from life's compass, and by 
its aid steers the ship of State, and holds 
the helm of a Christian nation, a nation of 
homes, to its cardinal principle, the Pole 
Star of liberty, the brotherhood of man. 
And lo! a new light is seen in the Orient, 
and the commercial nation takes a place 
in the councils of the world powers and 

proclaims the open door for the coming of 
i he Prince of Peace." 

J- 

A CROWDED MARKET. 

I wrote a little poem once — 

A dainty verse or two — 
And sent it to an editor, 

A-' poem-writers do : 
Bui soon it t raveled hack again 

Onto i ,J native place, 
Accompanied by a line which read, 

" Refused for lack of space." 



Next day to Life I posted it, 

But what was my chagrin 
To find, alas ! Life was too short, 

To take my verses in ! 
The Quiver and the Dial 

I addressed respectfully ; 
The first was full, the Dial said 

It had no time for me. 

I then assailed the Spirit, 

Put discovered in despair 
'Tvvas "overstocked with matter," 

Though I thought it made of air. 
And from the Inter-Ocean 

Came an intimation terse, — 
No room between the oceans 

For my clever little verse ! 

I next despatched it to the World, 

But back it came betimes, — 
The World was not quite big enough 

To hold my humble rhymes. 
And likewise from the Universe 

It journeyed back apace ; 
The Universe was all too small 

To grant my name a place. 

I boldly sent it to the Sun, 

For surely 'twould appear 
There ought to be some extra space 

In so much atmosphere ! 
But, oh, alas ! there wasn't, for 

The San had " stuff " to burn ; 
The Morning and the Evening ,sy„,. 

Rejected it in turn. 

And when my little poem had 

Come back from EverywTu re, 
With briefest lines asserting 

That they had no space to spare, 
I felt inclined to give it up; 

But to my rapture keen, 
Last week it was accepted by 

The Pocket Magazine. 

— Jennie Betts Harlswick. 

J- 

THE TRIALS OF MRS. JULIA 
O'GRADY. 
(.I.s Belated by Herself.) 
I. — Mary Ellen Attknds a School of 
Elocution. 
Sure Oi'd he livin' (ill < >i was as ould 
as Mickey Donovan's goat that wild be 
dancin' a harnpoipe on the rocks yit but 
for his walkin' in front av a thrullyloo car 
and disputatin' the road wid the motor- 
man, before Oi cud give yez an idea av the 
thriles Oi've enjured wid Mary Ellen's 



MARGINALIA. 



207 



elocrutiation, and the interfarences a\ 
Michael's mother, no! to be mintionin' 
Michael himself. 

The ould woman Bit be the foire, and 
there she talk and there she shmoke, and 
there she shmoke and there she talk. Sure 
she was never known to shul hermouth, 
only to kape the poipe from fallin' out. 
An' not a thing can ( >i be say in' but " It's 
crazy ye arc," sez she. "That's well said 
av any woman foolish enough to marry 
into the O'Grady family," sez Oi. "Will 
yez listen to that," sez she, "an' ivery 
wan knowin' Moichael cud have his pick 
av the foinesl gerrels in the county!" 
''Thrue for ye!" sez Oi, "an' there was 
not wan av tliim good enough for him till 
lie tell in wid ineself," sez Oi. Thanks 
be — Oi'in able for her, an' all the resht av 
the family. " 

Now, Mary Ellen, me daughter, is as 
foine a gerrel as yez could foind in all the 
burrers av New York, not to be talkin' av 
Hoboken and the unmixed disthrics, bar- 
rin' the airs she do be a-pittan an, and the 
call she hov av mixin' in wid phat is none 
av her business. Wid her Female Suffer- 
ers clnb, her electrocution colleges, where 
she learned to trim herself around and 
shout herself hoarse over something she 
knows as little about as her brother Danny 
does when he hollers for free trade — 
tliinkin', no doubt, that he can get aft" 
widout payin' phat he owes at the corner 
groceray. An Mary Ellen a-yellin' about 
a beggar that had lost his mind an' she 
a-wantin' some wan to "Pay, pay, pay.'' 
"Pay phat?" sez Oi, when she was goin' 
'round the house a-praotoysin'. "Sure 
it's as much as any honest man or woman 
can do these days to pay their own debts," 
sez Oi. "Well, mother," sez she, "ye 
don't understand. This is a call for the 
English paple to take care of the English 
soldiers' families phile they be fightin' the 
Bores," sez she, "down in South Africa," 
sez she. "An' they hov all lost their 
moinds?" sez Oi. "Well, it's no won- 
der," sez Oi, "an' it's too bad," sez Oi. 
" Wudn't it be a payin' job," sez ( >i. "to 
shut them up in a lunatic asoylum," sez 

Oi, "an' if they want to bale out their ini- 
mies i which the Lord forbid they do! | sind 
down some inin that can take their moinds 
wid thim an' settle the row. Bui will you 
be good enough to tell me, me gerrel, phat 
a full-blooded American lady loike your- 



silf hov to do wid il ? A foine thing, iu- 
dade, for a daughter a\ Michael O'Grady 
thot's voted the I ►immeycral t ickel since 
the day he landed to be stanin' in fronl a,\ 
the paple askin' pay for English fighters 
that are absent moinded or any other 
moinded, or their kids ay ther. Ye'd bet- 
ther be laviif sooch work to the illeganl 
ladies thai cooms over here and gets up 
tay-parties and pulls the lega av the pa- 
thrits. Git along wid sooch nonsense! 
Whin yez gel toired < »i suppose yez'll 
sthop," sez < >i. An' w id thai she tuk her- 
silf aff — a-bangin' the dure behind her. 

Was ( »i lellin' ye the way Mary Ellen 
kern to make sooch a fule av hersilf wid 
her school av oratorio airs? She'd been 
talkin' for a long time about a man she 
called .Mr. Delsthart, or Qpshtart— all the 
same, she was goin' woild over his atheis- 
tic jimjamastics, and thai she wanted to 
go to the EChool and larn to rade. "An' 
will ye tell me," sez Oi, when she sthopped 
for breath, "phat ye were doin' when yez 
war a shlip av a gerrel if yez didn't larn 
to rade — playin' hookey'.'" sez < >i. "Oh," 
sez she, "that war only plain, Sthraighl- 
away radin' that anywan cud undher- 
sthand," sez she. "Sure Oi wants to 
learn to rade the way no wan livin' will 
know phat's it all about," sez she. Wid 
that Oi tould her to shut up an' go an' 
find as big a fool as herself to talk wid, 
and to kape her quoit Oi tould her she 
could take phat she call a course in elect n »- 
CUtion. Not very long al'ther Moichael 
kem running down the sthairs. " Rin for 
yer loife, Julia," sez he ; " Mary Ellen hov 
a tit!" So up-sthairs oi goes, and there 

sthand Mary Ellen in the middle av the 

(lure, shakin' loike she hov the ager. 
•'Oh. Mary Ellen dear," Oi croied, " wail 
till your mother gets to ye ! " "Oh, don'1 
be frightened," sez she; "there's not a 
haporth the matther wid me." ><■/. she. 
"Oi'm only dacomposin'." "Well, then, 
I think thot's quoit enough," sez Oi ; "da- 
composin' before you're did. Sure if yez 
want to doy, phy don't yez go to bed and 
doy loike a Christian," sez oi, "an' not 
he stannin' there shakin' the finger nails 
aft" ye." sez ( )i. An' wid thai -he begin 
sthi'itchin' herself as if -he'd shlept for a 

wake, then she bind herself over double, 
like a pace av an ould carpel thrun over 

the hack fince " An' now w ill yez tell 
me." sez ( >i. •' phat i- the nianin' av all 



208 



FRANK LESLIE'S POPULAR MONTHLY. 



this?" sez <)i. "<)li," sez Mary Ellen, 
"thims me exercoises," sez she. "Well, 
now," sez ( »i. " it wud be far more to your 
credit," sez Oi, "if yez be in nade av ex- 
ercoise to go down sthairs and foind it over 
the washtub," sez Oi, "an' not be lavin' 
your poor ould mother smash her bones," 

SeZ ( >i. 

But the gerrels is good for nothin' 
at all nowadays but thrampooshin' the 
sthreets wid bandy-legged jude boys wid 
a jack-in-the-pol rose in their coats, the 
toime a\ day in their pockets an' very lit- 
tle else. And then she begin drawin' an 
the wursht lookin' moog Oi iver laid me 
two eyes an, an' she sthannin' in front av 
the lookin'-glass. "Don't do that agin," 
sez Oi; "don't do that agin!" "Thot's 
phat Oi'm larnin' at the school av expres- 
sin'," sez she. "Well, ye'd betther sthop 
that," sez oi. "or they'll very soon be ex- 
pressin' you," sez Oi, "to Mr. Bloomin- 
, lalc'> asoylum," sez Oi, "phereye'll not 
beat all lonely for want av paple makin' 
oop the same koind av faces," sez Oi. 

Be this toime the ould woman was up 

the sthairs, wid a keen tit to raise the 

carpse at a shantytown wake. " Hould 

your noise" sez Oi, "an' go down thim 

sthairs phile you're able. Shut up!" sez 

Oi, "there's nothin' at all the matther 

wid Mary Ellen." "Oh, don't be moind- 

in' her," sez Moichael; "she's ould and 

choildish." "Ould and choildish is it?" 

sez Oi. " It's had Luck to the day Oi iver 

married intil the O'Grady family and lift 

poor Barney Doolan gravin' his heart wid 

t l„. invy." "Well, then." sez Moichael, 

" it's often Oi'm wishin' mesilf in Barney's 

place." Will ye listen to that? An' he 

havin' SOOCh an easy-goin' wife that niver 

has a word to say, an' kapes all her thriles 

,,, i) erS elf. —Mary Sargent Hopkins- 

J- 

FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY 

If we had started FRANK LESLIE'S POPl - 

i.\i: MoNiui.v earlier, so that it had circu- 
lated throughout Sicily and the [sles of 
Greece during the Third Century, we 
should never have declined the following 
lyric which Mi-- .lane Minot Sedgwick 
has translated with exquisite grace from 
the Greek Anthology i " Sicilian Idyls. 
and oilier Verses," published by Cope- 
land >v hay. Boston i : 



I saw her at the hour of noon 

( dine through the fields of corn, 
.lust when the tresses of the grain 

\\ ere by the reapers shorn ; 
And suddenly two blinding rays 
lirw ildered me with double blaze : 
one from the midday sun above, 
And from her eyes the light of love. 

The shadows of the evening quench 

The sun's resplendent beams. 
But hers a vision of the night 

Rekindles in my dreams 
Sleep, that to others brings release, 
Allows me neither rest nor peace, 
Shaping an image of desire 
That burns into my soul with fire. 

"GANGWAY! " 
( Th< war-cry of thi American soldiers in th< 

Philippines. ) 
From the throats of many thousands leaps 

the mystic battle-cry ; 
Thro' the jungles bound the echoes, rend 

the air and reach the sky ; 
Slogan of a mighty land. 
War-cry of a valorous band. 
Foemen halt, with sudden fright ; 
Warriors, brave, forget to tight, 
Bend their steps in hasty flight, 

"Gangway!" "Gangway!" winstheday. 
High above the din of battle, high above 

the cannon's roar, 
High above the clash of sabres, rings the 

cry from shore to shore ; 
Drowns the scream of shot and shell ; 
Superstition's funeral knell ; 
Battle-cry of victory, 
War-cry of the brave and free, 
Herald-cry of Liberty— 

"Gangway!" "Gangway!" winstheday. 
When the guns are hushed and silent, 

when the cannon cease to roar ; 
When the bloody strife is ended; when 

the sabres clash no more ; 
When the gory swords are sheathed. 
When the heroes' hrows are wreathed— 
We will greet the tried and true, 
Welcome home the boys in blue, 
With their battle-cry and hm — 

■•( iangway!" " ( fangway!" won the day. 
Orasses green will wave and wither o'er 

the dust of vanquished braves ; 
They will slumber on forever in forgotten, 

nameless <j;iaves ; 
Men w ill come and men will go ; 
Floods and ebbs of tides will flow ; 
To the isle- lieyolid (lie sea 
There will come prosperity, 
Light and Freedom, Liberty : 

"< iangway ! " will have won the day. 
—Lawn na Porch r Hext. 



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